Eternally Faithful in the Darkness
by Ciunas
Summary: An Istar called upon to aid Gandalf and The Fellowship. Does not follow Fellowship course exactly but gets stuck in during the Battle for Middle Earth! Please read and review
1. Chapter 1

-1The darkness was overwhelming, murky and thick. She fought for air but couldn't seem to inhale anything, couldn't feel anything no matter how hard she gulped. Like a fish out of water she floundered, twisting, clawing and stretching as far as her tall frame would allow. She was being restrained, encased slowly in a substance she couldn't touch or feel. Something was watching her struggle, revelling in her panic. She could feel the malevolence, the pure hatred surrounding her. It was coming closer. From which direction she couldn't tell, for once her senses were failing her. Instincts confused, her inability to pinpoint her tormentor, to distinguish how hard their breathing was, to analyse their movements resulted in vulnerability permeating her being. Never had she experienced such fear or awareness of the fragility of her body. All thoughts of her spectator were banished as pain ripped her awareness apart. She had never felt in her millennia of war such soul wrenching pain as this Her throat throbbed with stress and yet the force behind her screams produced no sound, echoing silence cocooned her in damned pain. All the while the formidable presence drew even closer and closer, hovering above the wracked body beneath. Close enough to touch yet indecisive, hanging centimetres above her ivory skin.

The glare of the morning sunlight stunned her sensitive eyes. The bed sheets clung to her twisted body, strangling any movement. Her muscles, seized in their panic, painstakingly loosened and relaxed with return to consciousness. Slowly she released her grip on the silk bedspread, freeing her palms of the uncomfortable pressure inflicted by her nails. Testing her fingers tentatively she straightened her slim body gradually. Peeling the sheets back the cool air caressed her damp limbs. Past memories, past fears and imaginings began to fade. Safe in the return of her senses as peace replaced terror she took comfort in the soft padding of the maids outside her door, the rumbling of the Bruinen waterfalls beyond her window, the song of the birds nearby in the forests of Imraldis.

It was early yet. Earendil, not yet finished his journey above his former homeland but nearly returned to his desired destination in the west, was fading in the newborn sunlight. Another day to be endured, tasks to be completed and an Istari to be met with. Smiling softly at the coming reunion she placed her feet on the floor, shivering slightly at its coolness. It would not do to keep Olorin waiting, his patience somewhat deficit in pressing matters and yet she would not unduly rush herself. It was by his request that she was here, his request that had once again obliged her to forsake solitude and walk among the peoples of Middle-Earth. It was rare for him to come looking for her since she usually took it upon herself to find him when the balance was disturbed. It had been so insignificant that she had not paid much heed to the tremor that had alerted her to a change in the fabric of Middle-Earth and the fact that it had occurred beyond the Misty Mountains, far into the depths of the quiet lands of Eriador which Olorin was much more familiar with that she had placed it to the back of her mind. The reawakening of Sauron had, she judged at the time, been of more importance and so had received her full attention.

In truth Olorin had found her while she was preparing to leave in search of him concerning Mordor and the increasing activity of its inhabitants but she could never let him know that. To be looked for by her powerful comrade rather than her rushing all over Middle-Earth to find him had been the cause of much mirth. Especially when he had met her in such a harried state, unusual for him and amusing for her. That was until he had revealed the forming of the Fellowship. She doubted its ability to function with so many different races involved but Olorin had asked that she join him in Rivendell for the benefit of her knowledge of Mordor and the workings of it and its allies. After all she had been there during the last war, infiltrated so far that she had almost been found out, had seen things that no individual should ever witness. No wonder there was little in this world that could disturb or alarm her, not even death.

It was experience that Olorin needed, to educate the Fellowship before their quest, to desensitise them, even those who had seen war and death before. Smirking at the thought she considered the different members. The hobbits by far were the most naïve and the ones she most regretted educating. This quest would end the innocent views they had and maybe it would end more than that. Sighing she stood and teased each muscle out, touching the floor and afterward stretching towards the ceiling. Discarding the soft slip she pulled on her dark shirt. Rubbing it between her slender fingers, she regretted its incomparable texture. The elf had seen battle but was still young by her standards, his fair thoughts on this life would be undeniably shaken and as for the dwarf. . . . . He would maintain a tough exterior but like the elf he too was emergent and compared to her inexperienced. Her dark green pants lay folded on the chair beside the closet, tugging them on she tucked the shirt in firmly and tightened her belt around her waist. A leather tunic of intricate design hugged her upper body closely, securely laced to her waist it also fell to shelter her upper thighs. The men, they were interesting. Aragorn she knew of old though he would not remember her since he was only a child when she had first seen him. She had followed him throughout his life as a favour to Gilraen. He was hardy by any standards and probably the one who would deal the best with the knowledge she would impart. Boromir is a different story. Favoured son of a slowly rotting father he has seen battle but not of the likes that Aragorn had fought. Too much glory, as the Stewards son he led the city's army but he was always protected whether he knew or not. She did not care if he did or not all she knew was that it had not given him the hardening experience that Aragorn had endured. He had never faced several enemies on his own, always surrounded by guards but then again his bravery could not be questioned. Sitting on the bed, covering her chilled feet in thick socks, she slipped them into the well worn leather boots, which moulded to her calves easily after years of service. Vambraces of a similar style to the leather tunic protected her forearms as she habitually placed daggers into the hidden sheathes beneath them. She would meet them all today, would they remain true? Perhaps. After securing a long dagger in her right boot she fastened her weathered, floor-length, ebony cloak at her throat.

Casting a glance at her quiver and bow standing in the corner she decided against bearing them, not wanting to appear too defensive in the Last Homely House. Silently she kneeled beside the bed and drew from underneath a long, pale, wooden box. It wasn't extraordinary in appearance except for its length, which when stood on the floor nearly reached her hip. Placing it on the bed she respectfully undid the bronze clasps on its side. Within a silken material lay nestled, bound by leather thongs around a thin shaft that ran the length of the box. Unbinding the leather the material fell away to reveal a shining sword of masterful craftsmanship. Its shape at first seemed normal but as she lifted it from its former resting place the width of the blade could be seen to be miniscule when compared to similar weapons. A double-edged blade, it rose gently on either side to its central line where a slight groove ran the length of the sword. At its base a resilient pommel of the same metal flared out either side wider than the blade itself but still craftily diminutive. The hilt, bound in leather, was strengthened at the pommel by a darker material presumably leather. Its length allowed for a double-handed grip if so desired making it versatile in design. Deep-set grooves indicated its wielders' frequent use. At the end of the hilt no jewel sat but a simple design of intertwining strands of silver. For all intensive purposes the weapon was, in basic structure, simple to look at it was the artwork that decorated the length of the blade that made it unique. Lines of a craft superior to that of the finest elfish smiths swirled over the blade creating breathtaking designs broken every so often into spirals and strange symbols. Along the central groove near to the hilt the words "_Go Siorai Dilis Sa Dorchadas._" were etched so finely that one would swear that they had been written their by a quill dipped in silver ink. As she raised the blade pulsing blue lines appeared to grow the length of the sword, enshrining its message for all to see. Holding it she carefully placed it in a sheath made of a harder, earthen-coloured material whose designs, reminiscent of the blades, were raised in an ivory-like material. The blue lines faded at the loss of her touch as she belted it to her waist. Resting comfortably at her hip, it felt as if it were an extension of her own being. It was reassuring to have it there, at her side. In some ways it was like its bearer, fragile to look at but upon closer inspection treacherously dangerous.

Taking a moment she stood in silence and soaked in the tranquillity that surrounded her. Earlier feelings dissipated as she stilled herself becoming aware firstly of herself, each strap, each weapon on her person, her breathing, the tingling feeling at her fingertips, her rapier pulsing at her side in time with her own steady heartbeat. Spreading her senses out she felt the auras of those surrounding her, elves, men, dwarves and the small bright auras of what she supposed were the hobbits. Bright they were, full of hope and energy except for one, the only one who had any idea of what lay ahead. She fervently hoped that they would survive the coming storm, it will ravage many . . . . . some worse than others. She grimaced in her meditation, if by her actions she could prevent any part of the devastation she would do all that she could. Pushing the sombre thoughts of what could be to the back of her mind she concentrated once more on the life force of the earth beneath her feet, on the Bruinen as it flowed past the city of Rivendell, the animals in the forests of Imraldis and beyond. Here she stopped. Sadness gleamed in her eyes for but a moment at the growing evil she felt beyond Gondor and Rohan. It was steadily beginning to encroach on those lands, if Olorin wishes to make it beyond the Golden Wood without much hindrance and in secrecy the Fellowship must leave sooner rather than later. They have been here long enough, after all a month is plenty of time to prepare. If they were not ready now they never would be. Pulling up her hood she covered her face and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror as her green eyes gradually faded from view. Time to meet an old friend smiling as she closed the door softly behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

The fresh winter air blew frostily through the open window of a common-sized room, caressing the walls lined with books both ancient and contemporary. Dusty volumes on the history of Middle-Earth stood in chronological order alongside journals concerning the medicinal properties of various plants. A fire blazed in the substantial hearth opposite the door, throwing an amber hue on the four walls and a sturdy oak table dominating the centre of the room. Its' smooth surface was covered by various maps illustrating Mordor, Gondor, Rohan and an assortment of other realms. A candle flickered stubbornly on the table, struggling against the biting wind until finally it was extinguished by a gnarled hand.

Closing the unlatched window an old man shuffled towards the map-laden table. Resting both hands on its edge he contemplated the collection terrains, chewing on tobacco as he did so. His face, both young and old, filled with wisdom and at the same time an exuberance that only youth can enjoy, was bent in the low firelight with rapturous attention. His eyebrows knit together as he studied the maps, tracing mountains and rivers with his fingers. The Loudwater, the Misty Mountains, the Anduin, Lorien, Fangorn, the Falls of Rauros, Emyn Muil, the Dead Marshes and finally Mordor. A journey filled with challenges, but something that this man had faced many times over.

"East to West, North to South I have traveled and, nonetheless, never again shall I face such a journey in my lifetime." He muttered.

Hacking loudly he collapsed into the grand armchair beside the fire; staring into its depths he prepared his pipe. Grave and contemplative he puffed with ease as he considered the glow of the blaze before him. A pointed hat, of a like colour to his grey robes, rested on a corner of the headrest while a staff, large and insipid, leaned against his forearm. Everything from his posture to his movements heaved with weariness and belied his age. It was during these silent, solitary times that he felt the culmination of his years fall like a lodestone around his neck.

"Old bones, young spirit" he chuckled to himself.

He had not long been seated thus when the door silently opened and closed as if a gust of wind had gained entry and left as soon as it had come, depositing a tall, wraith-like figure within. It approached the armchair slowly taking in the picturesque portrait of the elderly man in his pensive state. He did not budge as it knelt at his side and joined him in his scrutiny of the ochre warmth.

"I trust you slept well."

It was more of a statement than a question but the figure sensed the old mans' question behind it.

"I did. Who has been known not to have enjoyed the deepest slumber when benefiting from the hospitality of Lord Elrond, except maybe for one of your hobbit friends. He may be excused however; the circumstances were unusual to say the least."

A twitch of the lips was all the reaction the man gave as he listened to its reply. Shifting his weight slowly he turned to face the hooded figure beside him. Analysing it steadily with probing eyes he paused, deciding on something.

"You have not answered my question Luthien."

Prompted by the name spoken the figure drew its gaze from the hearth to the armrest of the chair and lingered in thought.

"It has been a while since I have heard the name of my early days Olorin. In answer to your question the same as always. I am visited by memories I cannot banish from my mind."

Abruptly the old man placed his hand within the depths of the dark cowl; turning it to face him he searched its shadows. The only thing that revealed his disturbance was a flicker in his eyes beneath his bushy brows. A few moments passed before he rose carefully and gestured towards the table. Busying himself with the candle and parchments he waited for the other to join him.

"You have aged since I met with you last. It is in your walk, your breath and your movements my friend."

The necromancer smiled to himself while organising the collection of maps before him.

"Forgive me but that was barely a few weeks ago, has my degeneration been so rapid."

The wraith stirred and in one swift movement was alongside him. It looked at the man before it who was preoccupied with the parchments in his hands.

"You know what I mean Olorin. It was after the last meeting of the White Council. Saruman the deceiver declared the one ring had been carried to the sea by the Anduin."

When the maps were organised he turned to face his companion. Smiling he grasped its shoulders in both hands and surveyed it thoughtfully.

"Yes, it has been too long my friend. Much too long but you know as well as I do that matters have taken themselves into their own hands and I must be here to oversee proceedings."

The weathered faced smiled for a while longer before turning to look out the window. Four little people sat laughing and chattering amongst themselves in the courtyard below. Their gaiety and innocence made the old man frown broodingly.

"You cannot protect them. They will not always have you there Olorin, both you and I know this. Do not burden yourself with things you could not have prevented."

"They have endured enough already. Have seen enough already. He should not have to bear this burden."

The figure stood silently in thought before moving to the old mans side. Drawing back its hood it gazed upon the Halflings below.

"It is as the Valar have deemed it. I sense a strength in Frodo you do not give him credit for, a strength that all four possess. Their loyalty to each other will see them through many difficulties."

The old man smiled at his friend. Her ebony hair pulled back by warrior braids either side of her head accentuated her clear green eyes, which gleamed in the sunlight.

"I see none of your beauty has deserted you my dear."

Unexpectedly he was rewarded with a smile before her face returned to its customary neutral expression.

"It can be both a curse and blessing at times."

"I'm sure," he chuckled "men staring with gaping mouths are a true blight and nuisance. Of course I prefer them charging at me swords drawn!"

Shrugging exasperatedly she returned to the table to examine the detailed map of Mordor.

"It is a curse my friend. Women are not given the same consideration as men unless they are of high birth and that is slight even then. Maybe the Valar were mistaken in sending the women youthful and the men elderly. Perhaps it should have been the other way around."

The necromancer stood opposite her, wondering slightly at her choice.

"Yes, I was there long enough to remember every hill, pit and scorched stone," she whispered as if reading his thoughts "but every so often I like to see it placed in front of me. It does not seem so terrifying compared to the images that are stored in my mind."

Her face remained statuesque, like marble, but he could feel the underlying despair radiating from her.

"Come," he boomed jovially, breaking the silence between them, "it is nearly noon. We have tarried here for longer than I had anticipated."

Jolted from her thoughts she regarded him inquisitively.

"Where are we meant to be?"

"You have students to meet and educate," he laughed. "We should not keep them too long from their studies."

Matching his light mood she smiled softly and replaced the map as he strode towards the door. Turning to follow him she cast one last glance in the table's direction before closing the door firmly behind her.

_**Authors note:**_

Thanks to my reviewers! It is greatly appreciated.

Hope to keep the updating as frequent as possible but I have Christmas Exams coming up so please bear with me!

My feckin computer doesn't seem to be able to keep the spacing format when i transfer these chapters to the web. If any one out there has any clue how to fix this give me a heads up PLEASE. It's really annoying for me and for you lot to read.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: **I want to apologise about the confusion regarding my characters name. I intended for Luthien to be a pet name between her and Gandalf like a doting uncle might have. Unfortunately I realize that was taken up wrong and that is my fault. Sorry to anyone who found that offensive I just didn't phrase it right. When I said "early days" I kinda meant childhood but I knew that wouldn't work since she is a Maia. So sorry everyone. Thanks to all the reviews it's deadly to hear what you think! Ciunas.

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It seemed as if nothing had changed whilst Frodo watched wordlessly as Merry and Pippin disputed what was the best tobacco to be found in the whole of the Shire. He was at home sitting with his friends in the woods surrounding the Shire, on the borders of Buckland looking forward to the coming of winter snows. Nothing however could be farther from the truth.

"Longbottom Leaf! You can't be serious Merry. Even old Sam here knows that Old Toby's has a distinct flavour to it that no other can match!"

"As long as I live Pippin I shall hold you to that statement. I know Sam has often shared a pipe with Bilbo. He knows good tobacco when he sees it! Isn't that right Sam?"

Sam sat mutely beside Frodo trying to avoid the intense gazes of the two hobbits opposite.

"Well I suppose both are fine but in different ways. . ." mumbled Sam throwing a desperate glance in Frodo's direction.

Poor Sam, this had gone on long enough. Facing the increasingly frustrated hobbits Frodo cleared his throat.

"Merry, Pippin let's just agree that Longbottom Leaf and Old Toby's are the two finest tobacco's to be had in the Shire."

Both wheeled around, staring incredulously at their pale companion.

"Two tobacco's. . . . both of equal measure. . . ." scoffed Pippin.

Suddenly the two broke into gales of laughter, choking as they tried to catch their breath.

"Alright that's enough I think Mr. Frodo was right in what he said!"

Ignored Sam looked on as the youngest two, doubled over with laughter, tried to retain their positions on the stone bench.

Frodo had to grin at the look on Sam's face as he tried to discern what was so funny; truthfully he couldn't quite understand it himself but he was enjoying the carefree atmosphere and the infectious gaiety.

"What's all this? Have Merry and Pippin managed to procure some of Lord Elrond's fine wines again?" rumbled a distinctive voice.

"No Mr. Gandalf they are trying to decide which tobacco is the best in the Shire sir." responded Sam with an utterly confused expression creasing his features.

Above the spluttering of Merry and Pippin a soft voice could be clearly heard.

"I don't see why that should be the source of such hilarity."

Frodo peered around Gandalf's' robes to discern the origin of the entrancing sound. An audible thud refocused his attention on a, now perfectly serious, Pippin who, he presumed, in his curiosity had fallen from his seat trying to do the exact same thing.

Gandalf smiled at the hobbits immediate attention knowing it would have taken him a good while longer to achieve the same. She had always seemed to have the ability to gain everybody's attention and then release it as she wished.

"Something I was always jealous of Indil."

"I'm afraid it is not something I can teach Olorin."

Frodo breathed deeply as a bewitching woman stepped to one side of Gandalf. Her likeness to Arwen, Evenstar of her people, was uncanny and at the same time the look in her eye and curve of her lips distinguished her from that elleth.

"I have never seen them this quiet before! Maybe I should have introduced you years ago; it would have saved me a lot of trouble."

The lady laughed melodiously with Gandalf as the Halflings squirmed beneath her kindly gaze.

"What is Olorin?" blurted Pippin, inquisitively assessing their new acquaintance.

The two glanced at each other before Indil moved to the bench and sat beside a spellbound Pippin.

"It's not so much a what but a whom." she stated smiling at each of the hobbits in turn.

Stepping forward Gandalf chuckled loudly at the puzzlement written on the faces of the hobbits as they tried to keep both himself and Indil in their line of vision.

"I am Olorin my friends. Yet another name for you to contend with as well as Aragorn! To men I am Gandalf, to the elves I am popularly known as Mithrandir, to few others I am Olorin."

"So what should we call you then Mr. Gandalf I mean Olorin . . . . ." trailed off Sam, blushing from ear to ear in his bewilderment.

"I believe I shall remain Gandalf, Sam. That is of course unless you wish to call me something else?"

"Oh, no sir! Gandalf is just fine with me!"

Smiling Frodo took in the sight of two of his dearest friends, one red with embarrassment the others eye's twinkling to see him in such a fix.

The Lady Indil was surveying the whole scene stoically from her seat; it was as if she was carved from marble, beautiful and unmoving. Without warning she caught Frodo's gaze and it seemed as if she was looking into the very heart of him with all its secrets and sores. Its' strength reminded him of Elrond but he did not feel threatened, oddly enough he felt comforted. Although it lasted for but a second it seemed longer as the ache in his shoulder eased a little.

"Lady Indil how do you know Gandalf?" piped up Pippin.

Surprised at the unexpected question the Lady glanced at the old wizard who was smirking at her uncharacteristically.

"You can never escape Pippins' notice if he is determined to discover all there is to know about you. Even a quiet word or two doesn't do the trick" he stated, placing particular emphasis on the last half of his sentence.

Bracingly Indil took a deep breath and met each of the hobbits' gazes.

"Well I am of the same order as Olor. . I mean Gandalf. So I have known him a great many years. We are associates I suppose?"

Gandalf nodded silently in agreement.

Frodo wondered at her ability, delicate and graceful in her posture nonetheless she carried a blade and was clad in the way of the rangers. Was she as strong as Gandalf? Was she to join them? How old was she? As these thoughts ran through his mind Merry and Pippin had recovered from their initial shock.

"But Gandalf's ancient!" gasped Merry incredulously.

Pippin stared at Indils' face as if trying to detect any signs of age.

"You can't be more than twenty-five in human years!" he settled.

Indil beamed at the young hobbit who blushed under her jade look.

"You forget young one that appearances can be deceptive. Aragorn is much older than he looks, many elves have the expression of one much younger than themselves and you yourselves seem younger than you are."

Pippins' curiosity was insatiable, for the rest of the afternoon was taken up with questions upon questions. Frodo sat amazedly as Indil quietly and patiently answered each and everyone but it was increasingly evident that her endurance was fading fast.

"No I have never smoked Longbottom Leaf. I do not smoke at all. I leave it to Gandalf and Radagast mostly."

Tired and hungry Gandalf cut Pippins' next question off quickly with the suggestion of lunch.

For the first time since meeting Indil Frodo saw her neutral expression break into one of relief which was quickly reined in as Pippin once again focused on her.

"Are you coming to lunch Lady Indil?"

Silent for a moment she cast a glance in the direction of the gardens.

"No master Pippin. I believe I shall walk for a while before lunch. It is rare that one is afforded the opportunity to enjoy the gardens of Rivendell."

Frodo grinned at Pippins' crestfallen face.

"I shall join you there shortly for I am certain you shall not be finished for a while and I will not be long." She reassured.

Mollified Pippin, Merry and Sam said their goodbyes rapidly and walked as briskly as possible in the direction of the main hall. Gandalf ponderingly studied Indil.

"There is more to interest you than flowers in the fair gardens of Rivendell I surmise."

"Correct my friend. Apart from wanting to catch my breath I have yet to meet the remaining members of the Fellowship and I think a few might be taking an afternoon stroll."

Nodding sagely Gandalf turned to leave before looking questioningly at Frodo who indicated he would follow. Glancing at Indil Gandalf headed in the same direction that had been taken by three ravenous hobbits previously.

"Would you like to join me Frodo?" inquired Indil.

"No, my Lady. Thank you for your kindness. May I ask a question?"

A slight inclination of her head and the consent in her eyes indicated her approval.

"My Lady I hope you don't mind me asking but why are you here?"

A musical laugh rang out through the garden causing some passing elves to stop and peer into the gardens.

"Pippin even missed the most obvious question which you have just now asked. Gandalf requested that I discuss with the Fellowship the perils of Mordor and what to expect."

Noticing the look on Frodo's' face she continued to explain.

"It is not my purpose or wish to discourage anyone, merely to inform. I have personal experience of the Nazgul and the other horrors that will be sent after you. Your companions are hardy and experienced warriors, little I will say will surprise them."

She moved towards Frodo and knelt in front of him. She felt Frodo stiffen slightly at her touch as she placed her hands on his shirt, one on his wound and one above the ring.

"I know the burdens you bear and the anguish you feel Frodo but do not doubt me. I am here if you should ever call in need of aid."

Frodo stood, rooted to the spot by her captivating eyes. He felt a calm and peace settle over him in her presence. Slowly a warm sensation spread down his arm under her hand soothing its' constant throbbing.

"Do not hesitate to call."

Then as swiftly as she had knelt she was standing in front of him smiling gently.

"You have my thanks my Lady."

Frodo had reached the gardens edge before he heard her call.

"You are welcome Frodo. May I request something of you my friend?"

"You need not ask." Replied Frodo sincerely.

"Then stop calling me 'my Lady', use my name my friend."

Indil smiled at the hobbit as he grinned at her from the stair.

"Certainly, Indil."

Frodo left the gardens feeling confident about the future while Indil watched him until he was out of sight. Slowly she sat back down where he had once rested and cradled her hands. Such pain, despair and grief. She took a few moments to regain her composure before standing and moving further in among the flowers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author**: Thanks to all the reviewers! yous are the best. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

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The singing of the birds as a breeze rustled through the trees calmed her troubled conscience. It had probably not been the wisest of ideas when she had taken on some of what Frodo was feeling, it had affected her balance and in truth she should not at this moment in time be seeking out the remaining members of the Fellowship in her present state.

"Unfortunately time is one thing we do not have much of."

A new sound interrupted her musings as water spilled over rocks and stones nearby. She sensed him and another, an elf if she was not mistaken. They were arguing over something, mutterings which she could not distinguish over the gentle tumbling of water, birdsong and rustling leaves. Turning into a small, sapling bounded grove she waited patiently.

The flowers, in full bloom, never ceased to give her pleasure no matter how many times she sat among them. Their perfume and colours were delightful to experience and, she was sure, of medical benefit since Celebrian had been the partner of Elrond for countless years.

She had not been there long when a tall figure strode past the grove lost in its thoughts. Silently she rose and followed it at a distance through Celebrians' gardens. Catching a glimpse of him she rounded a sloping bend revealing his destination, a slightly overgrown patch to the extreme West of Rivendell.

"Of course," she breathed. "He does not forget what value there is in stone."

She watched as he caringly pulled the vines from a granite statuette of a beautiful woman who looked kindly upon the tall man before her. He said nothing as he cleared the years of foliage from her head and vegetation from the foot of the memorial. It was only when he had cleared every last stem did he permit himself to look at its face. Slightly worn by the elements it had still not lost the grace and loveliness which it had embodied the day it was sculpted. A soft sigh escaped his lips, slowly he positioned himself on the ground immediately before it allowing him to look directly into its face.

"It is an excellent likeness even after all these years." she whispered after allowing him some time to think.

Promptly he was on his feet and staring at her unblinkingly. The decades had only just begun to show on his face, russet shoulder-length hair, tanned skin and roughly dressed he wordlessly stood his ground.

"You are your father in everything except your eyes, you have your mothers' eyes." she murmured.

His grey eyes registered shock but for a second as he assessed the woman in front of him.

"You knew my parents?" he voiced questioningly.

She couldn't help but smile inwardly at his disbelief, youthful she appeared yes but so did he. We both seem much younger than we are. Outwardly she betrayed no emotion but passively stepped towards the weather-beaten man steadily.

"I did Aragorn, son of Arathorn and Gilraen, Elessar to the elves, Strider to the hobbits and Thorongil to men long passed."

He did not move away as she approached, maintaining his intent examination. Close enough now to reach out and touch him she stopped and deliberately looked over his shoulder.

"She was a good mother to you and a good wife to your father. In all my years I have yet to meet one equal to her in capability and strength."

She tore her gaze away from the statue behind and once again focused on the astonished man before her.

"How do you know me?"

"I met you a long time ago as well Aragorn, you were only a boy and your mother had recently suffered the loss of your father. I promised her I would keep a check on her beloved son when she left to join her husband. I can tell you now that she would be very proud of what you have achieved."

He took a moment to study her face once more. It was familiar in a distant way that only the deepest memories recalled, those memories that he had closed off many years ago. None of his more recent recollections included her face, he was sure he would have remembered her if he had chanced upon her for she resembled his beloved in more ways than one.

Truly it was only her forest green eyes and slightly more distinctive features that clearly marked her as not being Arwen Undomiel.

"My Lady, forgive my rudeness but you know my name may I know yours?" he requested.

"I am known as Indil."

A slight creasing of his forehead indicated his confusion as he processed the knowledge she had imparted.

"That is an elfish name I am sure but by all accounts you seem to be mortal like me."

"Indil is my name as Mithrandir is Gandalf's name. It is the name I prefer to use and for practicality it is the only name I shall go by in view of the fact that the hobbits are already grappling with yours and Gandalf's many titles." she smiled conspiratorially.

"So you know Gandalf well?"

She nodded slightly while stepping around him and closer to the statue behind.

"I am what you would call an associate of Gandalf."

Realisation flooded his countenance as grey orbs followed her every move while she circled the headstone.

"That explains your youthful façade. Excuse my confusion my Lady I know all that remains of my kin and most of the elves that live in Rivendell therefore I could not make sense of you knowing me when I was just a boy."

She glanced at him before returning to her study of the surrounding plinths. Carefully she pulled at the vegetation marring another statue. Repeating the exercise she unmasked a further two while Aragorn copied her example at the opposite end of the patch.

His clothes upon closer inspection were not as rough as previously thought. They were made of stern fabric that had obviously seen him through many years as had his boots that were mud caked from travel.

"That ornament hanging around your neck is of no numorean origin."

Briefly he touched the silver necklace before returning it to its hiding place beneath his shirt.

"It was a gift."

Calmly she pressed the undergrowth with the toe of her boot as she considered his answer.

"It is a symbolic gift is it not?"

His silence confirmed that which she had already believed. He continued to relieve the various monuments of their blindfolds methodically as if she had not uttered a word. A slight tensing of his hand resting upon the shoulder of one statue was all that betrayed him to her trained eye.

"It is as your mother said 'your aim is high' and yet I perceive hope. Many years have passed and even so she remains loyal to you, what have you done to deserve such you ask yourself daily. It is not what you have done but her faith in what you will do that sustains her hope."

"Enough. I do not want to talk of the matter anymore."

Sympathy evident in her eyes she joined him at the very last statue in the garden. Regardless of his tense back she continued on.

"Here the elves have let such memorials fade with the years for often time passes more slowly for them. Still these old stones hide such beauty and remembrance."

Facing the last in the line of the Kings she held his eyes solidly unbendingly upright in her posture.

"You are a memorial to those who have gone before you. Do not be blinded as these stones have become but rise above your ancestors. Be a testament to all those who have hope in these dark days Estel."

There they remained, silent and motionless; one could have mistaken them for the statues that surrounded them.

Breaking from her look Aragorn returned to his mothers' headstone. Tenderly touching the coarse cheek he contemplated her loss so many years ago. A voice drifted from the entrance to the now identifiable patch.

"Speak with her Aragorn she is listening. Share your burden for nothing is safer than stone when confiding our deepest fears and hopes."

Leaving mother and son Indil moved in the direction of the stream once more. Beyond the brook, the archery fields and yet another Fellowship member to be met with before the dimming of the day.

"This will be interesting." She grinned to herself preparing for the coming introduction.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors Note:** Hey folks sorry about the delay in updating! It is just getting a bit hectic around now with exams and assignments. Hope you enjoy the following chapter.

Ciunas.

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The lone archer did not notice the cloaked figure seated on the knoll watching him from afar. All that moved were the animals beyond the target in the wood, the crumpled grass straining beneath his feet, strands of his hair swaying lightly in the faint wind as he rested his vision on the centre of the target.

Without hesitating, he drew another arrow from his quiver and fired it with a skill that bespoke years of dedicated practice. An audible thud sounded as it found its way to the centre of the target that was already bristling with arrows.

Trees surrounded the archery fields except for the entrance, which led back towards the brook and gardens. Twenty round boards stood at different distances along the lengthiest wooded edge of the field while opposite rolling mounds provided comfortable seating for spectators.

The lush grass was soft and comfortable beneath Indil as she regarded the figure intently. The wind was quite still, the birds' song distant as he drew yet another arrow.

Like all silvan elves his hair appeared to be woven of the finest gold while his eyes were the colour of the deepest spring. He stood tall and upright, dressed in the greens and browns of Mirkwood.

'Young, young by elven standards . . . but wise as well.' She thought to herself.

He was as handsome as his father, King Thranduil, maybe even more so. The Prince, a beloved son of a mighty Elven Lord, was not lacking in tuition or training from what she could see or had heard about him.

Rising silently Indil moved forward until she was quite close to the Prince and waited for him to release his last arrow before stepping into his field of vision.

"Mae govannen Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, son to King Thranduil."

The archer swiftly turned towards his company, only his eyes showed his momentary surprise. Placing his bow on his back the Prince bowed gracefully, hand over his heart to the woman before him.

"Mae govannen, forgive me my lady I did not realise I had company."

Indil smiled at the young ellons' inference to her noiseless approach. Well mannered and well taught in the ways of the court this ellon had much more to him than she had first assumed.

"Forgive me I did not mean to disturb your practice my Lord but long has it been since I have seen such a display of skill."

His fair face smiled politely at her compliment but remained detached as he studied her face.

"My apologies Lady I cannot place your lovely face among the courtiers of Mirkwood nor those of Rivendell."

Laughing inwardly at his probing question, Indil admired the young ellons' ability to both compliment her and raise a question at the same time. Yes, this is definitely the son of Thranduil, ever watchful until fully informed.

"Forgive me for my ignorance my Lord. My name is Indil and I am, in the simplest of terms, an associate of Mithrandir. I have not attended the courts of Rivendell or Mirkwood for many years now so I would not dare to presume that you should know me."

The young Prince took her revelation remarkably well; his face maintained a pleasant but curious set. His only failing was the myriad of emotions that flashed in his cerulean eyes. In all but a few seconds they resumed their calm appearance but not quickly enough to go unnoticed by Indil who stood regarding him amusedly.

It was known to all that the Elves of Northern Mirkwood were guarded in their manner and much cause did they have to be so but relations between Mithrandir and King Thranduil could have been described, even at the best of times, as tenuous.

"Ah I see. You are here on a matter of business then I take it with Mithrandir?"

Studying the Prince Indil admired the manner in which Legolas posed such a question without making her feel as if she were under scrutiny. He was relaxed, not tense or harsh in his attitude.

"Yes. Mithrandir requested that I come to Rivendell to talk of a forthcoming event."

'If Legolas wants answers he shall have to work for them. Should he be anything like his father then this shall be amusing.' She thought to herself.

Legolas had never encountered another of Mithrandir's order before and truly he was astonished. The woman before him had the countenance of one who was only beginning to discover life but to be an Istar she must have a wealth of knowledge beyond anything he could comprehend.

'If she is anything like Mithrandir then straightforward answers are going to be sparse.' He supposed privately.

"When did you arrive in Rivendell my Lady? I have been here a full month and a half myself."

Indil could tell he was patiently seeking out answers, a talent his father lacked which made King Thranduil eternally difficult to deal with. Already this young Prince is showing himself to be a capable ruler.

"Yesterday evening, my Lord. It was quite a long journey so I retired immediately to my room."

After a slight delay Legolas offered Indil his arm and began to walk in the direction of the target punctured by his dozen arrows.

"How long was your journey to Rivendell my Lady?" he inquired softly.

Indils' hand tensed slightly upon his forearm as they walked slowly, after a slight pause she answered.

"From a place many leagues from here. Near the Sea of Rhun if you must know."

Legolas glanced quickly at her profile as she disclosed this information. Nothing in her demeanour suggested anything traumatising but he was curious as to whether she had had any protection or company.

"A journey of great distance then and perilous as well for one such as you."

"No more dangerous than for any elf or man my Lord."

"Nay my Lady for to cross the Wilderland so close to Mordor and past Dol Guldur would be considered by many to be a dangerous passage."

"Well I found it to be quite uneventful my Lord" replied Indil secretively.

Realising this approach would lead him nowhere Legolas quickly changed his line of questioning.

"We must thank the Valar for your safe arrival. Have you encountered the Halflings or Hobbits, as they call themselves, yet my Lady?"

Laughing aloud Indil answered Legolas' question before she had even spoken. Looking at his face, which was gazing fixedly at the target ahead, she could not help but grin playfully.

"I have never come across such inquisitive, joyful and ravenous little beings in all my years! If I had known they were so sociable I might have been persuaded to accompany Mithrandir on one of his many visits to the Shire."

"Indeed they are delightful company, especially when one is weighed down by responsibility. They lighten the atmosphere of any room in which they reside."

"I quite agree my Lord. I wonder how they manage to keep such cheerful manners in light of the future?"

"That is a riddle we all wish we knew the answer to. Even Elves find it difficult not to be disheartened in such times as these. . . Please excuse me for a moment. . ."

Indil smiled graciously and nodded her head as Legolas released her arm to retrieve his arrows from their resting place. Methodically he pulled each one free, examined it for damage and replaced in the quiver upon his back. Indil smirked at Legolas' preoccupation with his arrows, specifically one that seemed to have damaged fletching. 'Now would be an ideal time for some questions of my own.'

"These are dark times as you mentioned. Even the most welcoming of places feel the growth of the shadow in the South."

Legolas grimaced during his focussed analysis of an arrows' fletching but Indil fancied it was not only that which caused the Prince to frown.

"Certainly. There are few places untouched, even parts of Mirkwood are overrun with dark animals and places we dare not venture anymore."

"It must be a trying time for your people." Indil encouraged soothingly allowing her voice to comfort the disturbed elf.

"Each new dawn brings new attacks on our borders; orcs have penetrated the southernmost edge of the wood."

She could tell this issue was a sensitive one, his back muscles tensed underneath his tunic; there was an undercurrent to his tone, which had not been there before.

"Still you have not been overrun yet. Do not fail to hope for all is not as lost as it seems."

"I have watched good friends; good soldiers fall in the skirmishes on the border with the spiders. Too many have fallen, we do not have an endless supply of warriors to protect our kingdom. If it should become encircled . . . we would be cut off from any aid sent to us." He sighed resignedly.

Indil moved to the opposite side of the target. Capturing his eyes she held his gaze trying to draw him out of the place within himself to which his mind had retreated.

"Most realms in Middle-Earth are faced with the same dilemma and many rulers have the same hopes and fears as you. Thus it is important that the quest succeed, not just for elves but for men and dwarves as well."

"I will do the utmost to ensure that it succeeds." He growled uncharacteristically.

While they had been talking Legolas' grip on the arrow had tightened considerable. Carefully Indil moved to his side and placed her hand his whitening knuckles. Slowly but surely the elf regained the calm that he had briefly lost. When he faced her Legolas' eyes had returned to their former shade of cobalt blue to her relief.

"May I see your arrow?"

Mutely the Prince handed over the damaged object embarrassed at his loss of restraint. Gently Indil held the shaft of the arrow between her fingers while she examined it allowing the Prince time to settle himself.

The fletching had been crushed in the Princes' fist while the shaft was faintly warped but the expertise with which it had been made was still evident.

"I am afraid this shall have to be replaced." She surmised sympathetically.

The young Prince took it without any complaint and returned it to his quiver. Silently he offered her his arm again as they walked back.

"Forgive me for my outburst. It is not something you should have had to endure." Legolas apologised.

"We all need to reveal that which troubles us at one time or another Prince Legolas. You need not be ashamed of it." Answered Indil, thinking of Aragorn and his mother.

Legolas could not understand what had come over him. In all honesty he had been troubled with thoughts of his father and his people of late. If his father had witnessed his lack of composure he would not have been pleased.

Indil saw that her companion was weighed down with many thoughts, hopes and fears. She used the time she had to examine him more closely. Of a similar height as she, he was a little taller than Aragorn, but slighter in stature. He could not be taken for a lesser fighter though. His body was toned and revealed the training he had endured over the years, his hands bore the calluses of an archer and sword master. Above his pointed ears warrior braids of an intricate design pulled back his hair.

When his companion stopped walking Legolas suddenly realised that they had returned in silence from where they had begun.

"My apologies Lady I was lost in my thoughts."

"As was I milord." Smiled Indil.

A noise from the farther end of the field captured their attention. A group of elves were cresting the hill that led onto the practice fields from the gardens.

"I will leave you now Prince Legolas to your practice. Thank you for your company. Namaarie."

"It was a pleasure Lady Indil. Namaarie." answered Legolas.

Bowing slightly he watched her leave before returning to his target practice.

Walking away from the once again occupied Prince, Indil was lost in her thoughts.

Although he hides them it behind a cool exterior that young ellon is troubled by many thoughts. He is a skilled warrior and shall be needed on the quest but will he be able to deal with what lies ahead? A lot rests upon his shoulders, as a Prince of his people and a representative of the elves on this journey.

The sounds of arrows finding their mark faded behind her as she walked back towards the gardens. She had been gone long enough for the sun was now high in the sky.

"Pippin will probably be wondering where I am." She laughed at the thought.

I may as well join the hobbits and Gandalf in the hall for lunch. Chance may have it that one or two of the Fellowship I have yet to meet will be there.

With that Indil moved decidedly to the main buildings of the Last Homely House.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Hello everyone! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Finally managed to upload a chapter since my sister has discovered I have a laptop for college she keeps robbing it to go on MSN!!!! Thanks to all my reviewers you lot are the best. Hope 2008 is a great year for everyone. Now on with the story!

Ciunas;)

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It was not often that she found herself wishing she was somewhere else but, unfortunately, this was one of those occasions. Despite Pippin's never-ending questioning, she felt curious gaze of many focused on her. Usually she could ignore stares but elven stares she found particularly disconcerting.

"Why do you wear such dark colours? Do you not like brighter shades?"

Indil smiled at the little being before her, who was trying to keep a watchful eye on his plate while keeping her in his sights. He was doing surprisingly well but his valiant efforts were in vain. Every so often, a sneaky hand would appear beneath his elbow and then vanish as quickly as it had surfaced.

"It's not really a question of fashion but of practicality. These colours help me to blend into the background when I am travelling and they don't gather as much dirt as brighter materials would."

She had to admire Merry's persistence as, once again, a small hand slid into view. Pippin was still considering her answer when the hand retreated, a plum secured safely within its grasp.

"I suppose but why didn't you change? You aren't travelling now or any time soon I hope?"

More than one pair of ears tuned into the conversation then. Up until now, Pippin had asked various questions over the course of the meal but none that allowed the crowd in the hall any kind of inkling as to what purpose the curious stranger in their midst might have in being present.

Conscious of the eavesdroppers Indil threw Pippin a grin from her place before returning her attention to her plate.

"No I shall not be travelling for a while Pippin."

Satisfied Pippin reached out blindly, searching his plate. She chuckled quietly as his hand frantically clutched at the plate, devoid of any spherical plum-like shapes. Spinning around Pippin faced his innocent looking cousin whose cheeks, at that moment in time, were suspiciously full.

"Merry could you stick to your own plate at least!"

Merry smiled guiltily before swallowing whatever was left of the plum whole.

"You know full well Pip that you would do the same."

Indil felt a stern tap on her left forearm. A swarthy dwarf sat squarely on the chair beside her. His small eyes were emphasised by the bushy eyebrows above them. A thick beard covered his lower face, braided on either side of his chin just below his mouth.

"Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service. Would you mind passing us some of that bread there miss?"

"Indil at your service and your family's sir." Indil returned, bowing before reaching for the bread that sat in front of Pippin.

Gimli glanced in surprise at her reply but quickly schooled his expression into one of passive indifference.

"It's not often that an elf knows the proper reply to a dwarven greeting."

Indil accepted the statement calmly while handing the basket of bread to her stout companion.

"Regrettably I cannot lay claim to that compliment in favour of the Elven race since I do not belong to it."

This did not visibly shock the dwarf but his fleeting glimpse in her direction indicated a secondary study.

"Well then I still may compliment you on your knowledge of dwarven customs no matter which race you happen to belong to."

"In that case I thank you."

Turning to the dwarves alongside him, Indil took the conversation with Gimli to be at an end. The brief exchange had resulted, thankfully, in an elf sitting across from Pippin being questioned in the same manner Indil had been subjected to.

Sweeping the hall in its entirety Indil could see why Elrond's home was known to many as the last Homely House. Though by no standards a house, the citadel of Rivendell exuded a welcoming façade bolstered by a pleasant atmosphere. There was now, however, a perceptible wariness that had once not existed but it would be considered nothing by the mortals who visited Rivendell in these times, only the elves and other immortals remembered Rivendell of old.

The Hall consisted of a long main table that rested upon a dais, at which Indil and her companions sat. It alone stretched the width of the hall and faced the main oaken entrance doors. Perpendicular to it sat four tables, two on either side of a wide path at the centre of the hall, probably used during large festivals or such. Though there were no hearths visible the air felt as if it was being heated to a comfortable degree by blazing fires.

Above, wooden beams of a dark grain lined the ceiling from one sidewall to the other. A single candelabrum hung from the centre of the hall, quite unnecessarily to Indils' mind as light poured through the windows on either side of the hall, however in the depth of winter it probably bolstered the weak evening light.

Now the hall was alive with merry greetings and happy meetings. Apart from the dwarves that sat to Indils immediate left and the Halflings to her right, Elves of renown sat in jovial companionship.

At the head of the table sat Lord Elrond, wise and venerable. His face was one of youth but his eyes held a light akin to that at the dimming of the day. Noble and dignified he presided over the meal, talking to both Gandalf and Glorfindel who sat on either side of him.

Glorfindel, the mighty Balrog-slayer, sat attentitively listening quietly to all that passed around him. Indil had seen him before on her travels and remarked upon his face that was as fair and young as it had been all those years ago. When he chanced to add something to the conversation his voice flowed with such ease and grace it could have only been described as music. He was a mighty warrior though, his power evident in his stature and movements, lest it be forgotten.

A lady, seated at the top of the table next to Lord Glorfindel, could not be mistaken for anyone else so close was she in likeness to her father. Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of her people, gracefully ate her meal in silent contemplation. When she spoke to any of her companions, Indil could see the true beauty she possessed. Her gentle manner and welcoming smile endeared her to all she encountered, even the party of dwarves found her to be pleasant and amiable.

Next to her Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, conversed with Aragorn who sat opposite. It seemed Boromir had begun to involve himself more readily in the daily rituals at Rivendell and with its occupants a week after the council according to Gandalf. Dressed in fine clothes befitting his station, he looked every bit the Lord with his well-kept beard and noble bearing. Ever courteous and friendly he gave no outwardly sign that he was worried.

Gandalf had mentioned his anxiety to begin the quest and travel southward. It was to be expected. Gondor stands on the brink of war, weakened and isolated. Osgiliath had been recently retaken if she had heard correctly, a blow to the moral of the Gondorian army no doubt. . . especially without their captain to maintain their courage and hope in these desperate times.

All too soon, the plates and dishes were being cleared and the party began to move towards a more informal environment available in the Hall of Fire. Rising with the rest of the group Indil moved behind the hobbits as they followed the party uncertainly.

"Where are we going now?"

"Where do we always go after the afternoon meal Pip?"

"The Hall of Fire again?" whispered Pippin incredulously. "Do elves ever go anywhere else after they have eaten their fill?"

Indil could not help but laugh to herself at the conversation being conducted in lowered voices between the two young hobbits. She did not have the heart to point out to them that, most likely, every elf in the party, currently walking to said destination, could hear their discussion. She was so distracted by the Halflings she did not hear the other set of steps just behind her.

"Forgive me, my lady but what is so amusing?"

Indil started slightly at the voice now beside her. Boromir looked at her questioningly but not without a gleam of laughter in his own grey eyes.

"An incident which occurred earlier this morn, my lord, which had just come to mind." Replied Indil with as serious an expression as she could muster.

Boromir laughed quietly and fell into step alongside her. He was tall, slightly more than she, and had a confident gait. This man was obviously capable of handling himself in whatever situation he happened to be confronted with, whether it be on the battlefield or in a more formal setting.

"Pardon my ill manners, my lord, I am Indil, an associate of Gandalf the Grey."

Boromir smiled easily and made a point of stopping and bowing while introducing himself.

"I am Boromir, my lady, eldest son of the Steward of Gondor and Captain of the Osgiliath Guard."

Noting the pride in his voice as he introduced himself Indil saw a means by which talking to Boromir could be easily facilitated. Conversation stopped between them for a time as they entered the Hall of Fire and their eyes adjusted to the light.

There were no tables in the Hall of Fire, seats were dotted about the floor but all were turned towards the blaze that crackled happily in the enormous hearth. The party entered slowly, filling up the hall bathed in golden firelight. The hobbits took their seats beside Bilbo, who dozed off now and again against one of the carved pillars. As Lord Elrond sat in the chair prepared for him, goblets were handed out filled with a sweet liquor that Indil recognised as dorwinion wine. Music softly filled the hall, easily working itself into the background and around the inhabitants of its domain.

"Shall we, my lady?"

Indil bowed slightly as Boromir led her to some available seats near the hobbits and with a clear view of the hearth. As she passed Indil caught Olorins gaze and smiled. After a moment he returned it, eyes twinkling, as Boromir settled beside her.

"So," began Indil. "Lord Boromir tell me of your journey to Rivendell."

Boromir regaled her with tales of encounters with orcs near the River Entwash, sleepless nights passing through the Gap of Rohan and hours of riding through Dunland and Eregion. Indil was a good listener and polite as Boromir described every land he had journeyed over, even though she herself had seen all of them before.

"So I reached my destination safely as you can see, my lady."

"Let us be thankful, lord Boromir, such perils that haunt these lands are not easily faced nor endured but, then again, you are accustomed to such things are you not being a captain in the Gondorian army?"

Indil knew only too well what affect she could have on men and sometimes it was a definite aid. Shifting ever so slightly in her seat she gazed at Boromir with a look of praise and admiration. Colouring faintly at her interest, Boromir lost no time in launching into describing, in detail, his various exploits as a captain.

He was proud of his country and fellow men, that much was clear to her as he spoke, it was also clear that Boromir was a tried and tested warrior who had faced many battles and skirmishes in his time.Perhaps my previous assumtion concerning his experience was incorrect.

Despite some slight embellishment, his stories of war and battle were modest and humble, he continually pointed at the bravery of his men and the courage of the people of Minas Tirith when explaining victories.

There was still something unsettling however when Boromir began to speak of Mordor and the evil power that rests within its depths. A gleam in his eye, the strengthened rubbing of tunic material between his fingers on his lap, an undertone in his voice gave rise to some slight alarm within Indil that she could not explain. His manner was perfectly cheerful and at the same time it was vaguely disconcerting.

As the evening wore on and the shadows danced upon the walls, the music became of a more relaxing nature compared to the livelier melodies earlier. Resting against each other, the hobbits sat side by side, enjoying the minstrels' fine lute playing. It was not terribly late, indeed they had not been there three hours in total, when Indil felt it was time to leave the warmth of the Hall and consider all that she had gleaned from the fellowship during the day. Boromir was still talking animatedly when Indil yawned, covering her mouth as manners dictated but not in a way that hid it from his view.

"I beg your pardon, my lady, I am boring you with tales of war. Please, let us talk of something else."

"Do not be troubled lord Boromir. I arrived late last night and I'm afraid I have not managed to rest fully just yet. I find your tales of Gondor most intriguing. Maybe I shall retire early and then be able for a longer discussion tomorrow after a good nights sleep?"

Indil posed the thought gently while smiling at the man before her. No matter that she would probably sleep very little tonight, he will not be aware of it.

"Let me escort you to your rooms then, my lady."

"There in no need," spoke Indil softly, standing over him. "They are not far and I shall probably walk through the gardens before I retire. Please enjoy the rest of the evening, I would not wish to be the cause of your leaving just as Lord Glorfindel is being persuaded to sing a lay of Gondolin."

Sure enough Lord Glorfindel was being accosted from various sides to sing and seemed to be, finally, giving into demand.

"I could not allow. . ."

"Lady Indil are you retiring for the evening?" interrupted Gandalf, who had moved beside the hobbits during the course of the evening.

"Why yes, I am Mithrandir. I find myself unforgivably tired when Lord Boromir has such interesting tales of the men of the South." Indil smiled at his ingenuity.

"Then may I impose on you?" requested Gandalf, coyly. "I am in need of company. My mind is not as it used to be and dorwinion wine seems to have got the better of me. Rivendell appears to grow new halls every year and I do believe your quarters are down the hall from mine?"

"Indeed they are!" smiled Indil. " Lord Boromir, would you mind if I accompanied Gandalf?"

"Not at all, my lady. It has been a pleasure. I look forward to meeting you tomorrow." Answered Boromir, bowing graciously.

"As do I my lord."

Indil moved to Gandalfs side and helped him rise from the chair he had been resting on. Moving quietly they avoided disrupting the crowd, whose attention was centred upon the fair elven lord glinting in the ochre glow.

Outside the air was noticeably colder as the pair walked away from the Hall of Fire and into the moonlit gardens. Gandalf slowed the pace of their stroll to an amble as they moved among the blooming flowers of vibrant colour.

"Well, Lord Boromir appears to be quite enamoured." Chuckled Gandalf.

Indil smiled ruefully at her friend as they progressed through the gardens.

"Perhaps I should have talked to him in a different way but it was the first one that came to mind."

"Certainly."

It wasn't until they had reached the grove Indil had used earlier while waiting on Aragorn that they had managed to stifle their laughter. It was then in the cool night air, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the sounds of the nearby stream that the discussion turned to matters in hand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Shout outs!**

_Crecy:_ Thank you for the review! I know commas and I do not have a healthy relationship! LOL

_Amrawo: _Thanks again for reviewing. It's nice to know someone is enjoying my pathetic attempt at writing! ;)

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Both Istari sat on the marble bench which, just a few short hours ago, had serviced one. It was quiet; the noise from the Hall of Fire had faded some time ago as they had walked further on, deeper into the shadowy depths of the gardens. Even the Bruinen seemed to recognise the importance of the meeting taking place not far from its banks, murmured softly in the background.

Indil could see that Gandalf was eager to share his thoughts with her and to explore her own but she could not help wondering if they were what he expected or wished to hear. He sat now on her left, thoughtful and pensive in the grey robes of his station.

"Shall I begin or you?"

Indil smiled at his words, no she would share her views first. It was always the same order, she would talk then him and so on and so forth until all problems and worries had been considered from every aspect possible. It had become a kind of ritual.

"I am anxious my friend. Quite anxious, it seems to me to be a desperate plan."

Gandalf smiled ruefully at her.

"It is a desperate plan for desperate times. Was not the Last Alliance considered a desperate bid for victory? I think I remember, forgive me if I am wrong for my mind is not what it once was, that you thought the Last Alliance foolhardy?"

Indil had to concede that her criticism of the Last Alliance had been pessimistic at the very best but considering the circumstances and situation she had been in . . .

"Not just that but the fact that you hope to find a way into Mordor in secrecy! Your fellowship is too big and questionable itself to be able of such a feat."

Gandalf moved to face her, his eyes requesting that she continue.

"Nine people, nine Olorin. I have seen what Sauron is capable of, he does not rest and his eye wanders the barren wasteland that is Mordor constantly. At most three might be able to penetrate its' borders in secrecy. Even if the company was comprised of elves alone I would be dubious . . . their light attracts unwanted attention. It is not just the eye but his ability to feel. His every nerve is connected with that land, the slightest quake or movement attracts his undivided attention."

Gandalf wanted to answer her but could not find the appropriate words.

" Consider the fellowship itself. Dwarves are a race of action and no thought! Men are more like dwarves than elves and give into fear more readily. The Hobbits are inexperienced and naïve." Indil sighed hopelessly.

As if noticing the emptiness for the first time she turned to face her friend. Understanding shone in her companions' eyes as he sought her gaze.

"Aye, you have voiced what fears Lord Elrond had of such a company but I believe that it is achievable. It must be achievable since the Last Alliance was viewed in the same light, if we dare to hope. I worry daily over my choice in letting the hobbits go. Yes they are naïve and innocent but they have such goodness in them that seems to have been lost in all other races."

"Strangely it is not the Hobbits that concern me the most. Frodo's ability to have come thus far is a testament to that races inherent integrity. No it is the men that I fear the most, especially Boromir. Did you not tell me of his words and actions during the council? He is a loyal and capable soldier but this will be trying for him at best."

Gandalf appeared to be unsurprised at her assessment of Boromir. The Gondorian Captain had some of the finest qualities to be found in men and some of their weakness as well.

"I know your fears for they are my own. Still we must place our faith in the race of man again; Aragorn shines as a beacon of hope for all to see. In him will men find their redemption."

"That is if he takes up what is his by birthright." She voiced aloud to the gloom.

"I trust Aragorn, he will not fail us in the coming darkness."

Both figures sat silently for a time. Indil enjoyed the security Olorins' company it was calming. He may be ageing but he has certainly not changed. The affable front Olorin was able to exude and use to his advantage was one that Indil had to teach herself. In no way could she be as forthcoming or sociable as Gandalf who was able to ingratiate himself with the lowliest servant to the mightiest Lord.

"Whatever faith I have in Aragorn, as little as it is, does not extend to Boromir."

"You were never one to put your faith in anything or person blindly. I, on the other hand, continually trust others and their characters. It can be both a blessing and a curse."

His voice sounded harsh in the silence of the gardens. Smoking pipe weed always seemed to produce such an effect.

"My way of viewing people and the world is no different. Yours is to search for hope whereas mine is to dismiss it. Not a healthy way to regard life."

Gandalf chuckled at her sincerity. Indil never minced her words even when they concerned her. She always was able to get straight to the point no matter how many extenuating circumstances or altering conditions he laid before her. There is no grey with Indil, or very little.

"Is it as bleak as I see it my friend?"

The faintness of her question startled him.

"I do not believe so or should I say hope so. Unfortunately it's a fools hope that I am holding onto, an old fools hope."

"No a wise mans hope."

Gandalf smiled at her. Maybe it would be enough; perhaps this desperate plan would succeed. So many choices and futures lay ahead that not even the wise were able to unravel the confusing thread of fate.

"Enough of philosophy and more on the Fellowship." Declared Indil resolutely.

Maybe she did not hope but she would not sit here while her eternally optimistic companion began to despair.

"The elf is young but well trained, the dwarf stubborn but stout, the men courageous but easily corrupted and the hobbits noble but inexperienced. It is such a mix Olorin that there are bound to be conflicts."

"But, of course, my dear. An elf and dwarf in such close quarters, two men whose beliefs are quite the opposite and let it not be forgotten the ravenous hobbits who will try everyone's patience. If it was any different it would be no fun!"

Indil laughed at his dry humour.

"You have forgotten one my friend. A grumpy Istar whose patience is renowned for its brevity!"

"Who dares make such a statement?"

"No matter. Gandalf what do you propose to do when you reach Mordor? I am being optimistic in saying this much my friend."

He did not answer immediately; instead he stood and paced the tiny grove they occupied. Indil waited tolerantly knowing that he would speak when he knew what he had to say.

"Frankly, I do not know. This whole process is only beginning. I have yet to decide firmly on anything. The only thing that is certain is that I shall leave with a certain hobbit and together we shall partake of a journey so epic that whatever the outcome it shall be remembered."

"Same as ever, Gandalf. Thinking on ones feet is only so good; there must be some kind of plan." Reprimanded Indil in a teasing voice, her eyes twinkling as she did.

"Likewise Indil, forever planning for events that may or may not occur." He retorted.

The sounds of a merry party rose and fell as the Hall of Fire was vacated. Indil could distinguish the voices of Boromir, the Hobbits and the dwarves. The elves would probably continue on further into the night and early morn. It was so surreal that not thirty paces away beings passed by in such a jovial mood when here, with Olorin and herself, everything was distant and foreboding.

"The path which we shall take is loosely decided. Through the Gap of Rohan, across the River Entwash plains, through Emyn Muil and approach Mordor from the North." Began Gandalf noticing his friends' meditative expression.

Indil contemplated the route chosen, close to Isengard unfortunately but closer to Mount Doom from the North. The real trouble would start upon reaching the Entwash plains; from there on parties of orcs and more evil things would become more frequent.

"It is a fair path, as fair as any path that leads to Mordor. What of timing? I understand the need for winter to pass but Gandalf, please, the fellowship must set out as soon as possible if there is any kind of hope for secrecy. It is mid-November my friend, autumn is waning."

"Indil the Hobbits are not used to travel, especially Frodo who was grievously injured. As soon as the weather becomes milder and late winter is upon us then we shall depart. That should leave you with three weeks to educate the Fellowship."

Indil unconsciously grimaced at the fact that she would be trying to impart information to such curious Hobbits, one in particular; namely Pippin.

Gandalf laughed at his friends' expression, one he could surely guess the meaning and origin of. She would have to be patient and kind, something she is well capable of when she has a mind to.

Indil grinned at Gandalf as he once again took his seat beside her.

"Remind me what exactly you want me to teach them."

Huffing exasperatedly, Gandalf replied.

"All of Mordor. Its' layout, atmosphere, dangers . . . down to its' very appearance. I want them prepared Indil, in what ever way you can. If they ask you for advice, training, ideas . . . anything I want you to do it for them. Consider it a favour to me."

He had sounded so adamant, different to the usual Olorin she knew. What was he hiding? He had always been secretive but there had been a hint of pleading in his voice.

"What I can tell will not save them. You cannot prepare them for this task Gandalf, it is something that cannot be weighed or measured."

Just as he looked askance at her as if to interrupt she held up her hand to silence him.

"However . . . I will do as you ask."

The contentment that she detected in his face was thanks enough. She had only once seen her associate so anxious and that had been during the first war of the ring. If she could relieve any of the pressure he placed on himself then she would.

"I think we have discussed all we can tonight. Look the moon has travelled to the far side of the sky. Let us retire for an hour or two of sleep before a new day begins." Stated Gandalf.

Indil followed his hand to the moon which had, indeed, covered quite some distance during their discussion. The garden was waking slowly to the new day, it was still dark but had a morning quality to it that one knew from early travelling.

"I think I shall retire soon, go ahead. You know I am safe from any harm."

Gandalf gazed at the woman before him. She showed all the signs of not sleeping but he knew better than to argue. If she wished to escape her troubles who was he to force her to face them. Smiling gently he nodded and left the Istar to her thoughts.

Indil watched him go fondly. She knew him well enough to know that something in his voice toward the end of the conversation had been strained. It was if he was preparing the Hobbits for something, but she had her doubts that it had been Mordor occupying his thoughts. Olorin was never one to share his burden lightly. More often then not it was difficult to get him to talk about any of his travels. Still if he had need of her help she would not refuse it.

Broodingly she left the small grove and made her way back towards the halls of Rivendell. She needed a few things in her room before she began any lesson and to think upon what had passed between herself and Gandalf during their night discussion. No she would not sleep ere this dawn.


	8. Chapter 8

Authors Note: Thanks to my reviewers and sorry for the delay. Things are getting a bit hectic at the mo! Anyway good reading ;)

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Indil was the first to arrive at the room provided by Lord Elrond for her meeting with the Fellowship. It was a large room occupied by a beautifully carved wooden table, around which nine chairs were placed.

A fire crackled in the hearth to the left of the table, heating the room and bathing it in a warm glow. Tapestries of ancient battles and legends were draped on the four walls, brightening the room with their colour and preventing cold drafts from entering. Lord Elrond had kindly left detailed maps of Mordor and its perimeter, from Imraldis' coveted library no less, for Indils' use. Hefting her cloth bag she walked around the table absently stroking the aged wooden table with one hand. Opening the bag she inspected her wares.

Indil laid out several weapons on a sideboard purposefully; row upon row of fearsome blades, darts and daggers gleamed ominously as she removed them from her sackcloth bag. All were of Mordor origin and bared signature signs that hinted towards that end. The smiths of Mordor did not put any store by beauty or appearance, for them the most crucial point concerning a weapon was its ability to slash, tear and gouge. Thus all the blades, from broad swords to daggers, had a crudeness that no elven smith would permit to mar any elvish weapon.

The darts and arrows were no less striking than the others. Shafts of blackened ash with fletchings of crow feathers, they were every bit as dark as the blades that lay beside them. A feature that was common to both projectiles, despite the difference in the length of their shafts, was their serrated tips.

Somberly she felt the rough hewn shafts beneath her fingertips as she laid them out, fell weapons for fell ends. All of these were wielded by an evil that did not concern itself with race, mercy or pity. Yet again she found herself calling the ability of the Fellowship to succeed into question. Shaking her head to dispel all such thoughts she discarded the sackcloth to the side and began to lay out the maps on the main table.

Indil did not have to wait long for company, if you could describe it as such. Aragorn was the first to arrive quickly followed by the elf prince Legolas. Both were quiet in her presence, due to her intent study of the maps before her and the distraction of so many blackened weapons to one side. Aragorn sat upright in his chair with the bearing of any lord despite his garments of worn cloth and leather while Legolas appeared every bit the elven prince with his tunic of forest green with russet-coloured embroidery. Two pairs of eyes, one grey the other blue, swept the room then the maps and finally rested upon the lady who studied them so absorbedly.

The atmosphere was considerably lightened by the entrance of the four hobbits, two of whom in particular were in good spirits. Apparently Merry and Pippin had managed to pilfer some baked goods from the kitchens putting them in an agreeable mood. Only with their entry did Indil feel some reprieve from the steady scrutiny of Legolas and Aragorn, both of whom were being questioned and included in discussions that did not really hold much interest for them.

Lastly Boromir and Gimli entered in deep discussion, Boromir slightly surprised by the presence of so many. Straightening slightly he focused in on Indil.

"Forgive me my Lady, I fear we are late?"

Indil smiled quietly from her position at the head of the table.

"Do not be troubled Lord Boromir, you are just in time."

Assured he took his place opposite Aragorn with Gimli to his right and the hobbits to his left, giving Aragorn a well measured gaze quite brimming with a mixture of contempt and anger. Clearly Boromir had yet to fully engage Aragorn in any conversation since the revelations of the Council of Elrond and when he did address the Chieftain of the Dunedain it was to inform him of the past glories of the Stewards of Gondor or of Gondors' contempt for any semblance of a King.

Heads turned to Indil expectantly as she considered how best to begin that which promised to be an eventful gathering. Looking around the table slowly from right to left she met the inquisitive glances, demanding stares and contemplative studies of her companions.

"My friends as you probably all know through one source or another, or perhaps from me," she inclined her head to the hobbits. "that I am an associate of Gandalf the Grey. In truth he was the one who requested my assistance in Imraldis, for a short period, as you prepare for your upcoming journey. Suffice it to say that he asked that I should give you an insight into the inner workings of Mordor and its inhabitants since that is your intended destination and a land surrounded by much mystery and confusion."

Indil paused momentarily to allow all that she had said to be absorbed and, hopefully, accepted. Unfortunately not all were as compliant as she had hoped.

"What do we need to know of Mordor save that it is a barren wasteland as far as the eye can see, occupied by our enemy and holder of our only means of salvation?"

Gimli's outburst was not contradicted save for a warning look from Aragorn which had little affect. The air grew heavy with tension as the group watched Indil, analysing her reaction and wondering what could she possibly have to say in her defence.

Admirably she smiled calmly at the staunch dwarf seated between Boromir and Aragorn, at the opposite end of the table.

"Master Gimli knowing your enemy inside and out is of the utmost importance. All who go on this quest must be as best prepared as is possibly to avoid any surprises. When you reach Mordor, by whatever route you take, knowledge of its terrain, strengths and weaknesses will be invaluable should you wish to penetrate its borders undetected."

Adjusting his position in his chair the burly dwarf grudgingly accepted what she said with a curt nod of his head.

"My Lady, with all due respect, what do you know of the black land and what lies therein? I myself have lived not a day's ride or more from the black gate and I can only claim to have seen the dark realm from a distance."

Turning her gaze slowly from Gimli to Boromir Indils' eyes held no reproach or anger at being questioned though her tone this time was harder.

"Indeed Lord Boromir you have maybe the most experience of Mordor with the exception of both Aragorn and I. I cannot speak for Aragorn but in my case I can tell you that during the last war, long before the First Alliance was conceived of, I infiltrated the dark land on several occasions for differing reasons as wide ranging as information gathering to inspection. If you do not believe me I will refer you to Gandalf who has knowledge of all my previous visits to that black end of Middle Earth."

Indil regarded Boromirs' shocked look with one of amusement as he processed the information she had just shared.

"How did you. . . . why were you . . .?" Boromir trailed off quietly.

Indil alleviated the man of Gondors' questions somewhat with a quick dismissal.

"Young Steward did you really believe that I was of your age, your time? No. I tell you truthfully that I was nearly lost to the dark but was saved by the timely regrouping of men and elves during the first age. That, however, is a story for another time."

Her eyes held a haunted look that bespoke of memories best forgotten or put out of mind. After that everyone's questions died on their lips at the foreign look upon her face and in her eyes. Lost in past remembrances for but a moment Indil shifted her gaze toward the maps laying on the table. Clearing her throat she leaned forward and pulled them to her.

"Not all of us have ventured into that land but we do know something of its' layout from information gathered over the ages. Mordor is surrounded by black peaks known as the Ephel Dliath or the Mountains of Shadow. It is a continuous range surrounding Mordor on the three closest fronts to us. To the north they are, for that stretch, called the Ered Lithui or Ash Mountains." Indil explained her forefinger tracing the mountain ranges gracefully.

"Only one direct entrance is available to us and those who live beyond the borders of Mordor that is the Black Gate or Morannon." Indils' finger circled the spot on the map which lay on a corner of Mordor diagonally across from the small depictions of Osgiliath and Minas Tirith. "Obviously this option is not open to you if the Fellowship wishes to remain hidden."

Moving back slightly Indil watched as the Hobbits leaned over the map enthusiastically to study the foreboding range which on the map appeared miniscule. Sighing Indil glanced at Aragorn who sat in his chair unmoving and silent. He already knew all of what she had said, as had Legolas, Gimli and Boromir. Thankfully they understood that the Hobbits needed to be informed of such basic detail before Indil could move on.

"Therefore your only hope is to traverse the peaks themselves which is no easy task. For this I suggest you take either the peaks just east or west of the Black Gate, particularly the ones to the east, since they are not as demanding as those further on. They also allow you to come as close as is possible to Mount Doom, leaving less flat ground to be covered by foot."

"The only obstacle there is the little matter of Barad Dur! Coming from that direction we would have to sneak directly beneath the Eye." Exclaimed Legolas laying his hand on the map directly above the dark tower to illustrate his point to the halflings.

"Yes it would but what would you have me do? Suggest another path? I could suggest to you the way of the River Poros which runs through Southern Ithilien, through the mountains to the south and eventually into the Sea of Nurnen but that would involve more travel both outside and inside Mordor increasing your chances of being found."

Legolas stared at her in amazement. Did she honestly expect them to take this mad course she suggested? The only place it leaded to was certain death.

"Prince Legolas, I am well aware of what I am suggesting." Admitted Indil softly noting the emotions swirling in his eyes. "No matter what route you take you cannot escape Saurons' notice from South, North, East or West by hiding in the shadows. This whole plan of the Fellowship is the furthest thing from his mind. He is confident that we will either try to hide the ring, pass it into the west or use it to our own ends. Not in his darkest dreams does he suppose that we will attempt to destroy it. By entering Mordor from the North you avoid a lengthy journey through Rohan, the White Mountains, Gondor and South Ithilien not to mention the trek from the Sea of Nurnen to Mount Doom."

"The Lass is right."

Everyone in the room turned in shock to look at the robust dwarf who now was staring resolutely at the elven prince.

"Sauron does not expect us from the North and I don't know about you boy but I prefer a more direct approach than skulking in Mordor!"

"I did not suggest that we skulk, only that we consider the distance between us and the Dark Tower!" spat the enraged elf leaning menacingly in the direction of Gimli.

Aragorn pushed Legolas back into his seat murmuring "Havo dad" every once in a while to cool the elf's temper. The Hobbits and Boromir looked on with interest at the development between the two while Indil bowed her head patiently and waited for the argument to come to and end. Sensing the gaze of those in the room she raised her head.

"How do you expect to aid the ringbearer when you can barely tolerate each other? It is advice, guidance, fellowship that he needs not bickering." she whispered accusingly.

Both dwarf and elf avoided her gaze and each other while offering no answer to her direct and cutting question.

Facing the Hobbits, Indil once again drew their attention to the map of Mordor on the table.

"Here is the path which I suggested." She stated following the said path with her finger. "Prince Legolas suggested that you take a more southerly route as to avoid detection from the dark tower or Barad Dur, Saurons' stronghold."

As she traced the route that the elf had suggested the Hobbits faces fell slightly at the distance her finger covered in comparison to before.

"Though more sense if the Fellowship had much time to work with it would not save you from any detection. Consider the longer distance and when you reach Mordor the higher peaks and trek from the Sea of Nurnen."

The mountains were drawn so as to illustrate the difference in height with their brethren to the North and the Sea of Nurnen lay within the south-easterly corner of Mordor, as far from Mount Doom as possible. It was plain to everyone that Legolas' plan was not viable.

Looking around the table Indil saw rather than heard the Fellowships acceptance of her advice. In her heart she felt the need to reassure the disheartened Hobbits and their companions as she took in their downcast features and knitted brows.

"I grant you this is no mean feat. There are also the sharp foothills of Emyn Muil and the Dead Marshes to contend with but I would not suggest this route if I did not think you capable of following it."

Slightly heartened by her words of encouragement the Hobbits looked at her hopefully, in the countenances of the others she recognised the looks of surprise and then comprehension as the Hobbits began to chat.

"Well I say no little mountains will defeat a Took no less! My ancestors are proof of our stoutness." declared Pippin.

"With regard only to their stomachs. No Took could ever best a Brandybuck dear cousin." laughed Merry as Pippins' face displayed his outrage.

"If this is the way Mister Frodo is goin then that's where I am headed." stated Sam categorically to himself.

"Good, well now you know something of Mordor and its lands I will show you some weapons of the enemy. Come here."

Rising quickly Indil indicated the Hobbits curious stares to the array of weapons next to her. Leaping off their seats Indil repressed a smile at the excitement that shone in the eyes of the younger Hobbits who tripped over each other in their efforts to get as close as possible to the weapons. Frodo however was as serious as ever, contemplating the dark utensils with an impassive face betrayed by a slight tremor in his hand as he unconsciously rubbed his injured shoulder for a second."Oooh what's this?"

"Pippin that is not a toy." admonished Indil as Pippin playfully hefted an orcish broad sword from the sideboard. With ease she regained the weapon from his grip before he could poke Merry with it.

"These are orcish weapons. Here we have the standard sword carried by every orc."

Giving the sword a test swing Indil decided to display its power by splitting a log from the basket beside the fire.

"Note how thick the blade is when compared to the swords of men or elves. That is because orcs are able to lift and use such weight fairly comfortably and it provides maximum damage. To counter this men and elves have swords which, though lighter by comparison, are just as deadly when used correctly. Instead of hewing the flesh they slice."

Replacing the sword Indil went on to point out its features identifying it as being of Mordor origin rather than of Sarumans' doing. From there she moved through the display of daggers of varying shape and size.

All of them looked evil to Frodo but they lacked the deadly grace that had been apparent in the blades of the Nazgul. Their blades had not gleamed; no they had been pure black absorbing any light given by the moon. Frodo was disturbed from his thoughts as Indil moved further down the sideboard.

"This is an orcish arrow. The shafts are thicker than those used by elves or men and the fletching is more crudely done but it is devastatingly effective. The tip is serrated to maximise the damage inflicted and the extra weight from the shaft is to ensure deep penetration, to the bone if necessary. To compensate for the weight orcish bows are smaller and are not able to fire from the same distance as is achievable when using man made or elvish bows."

As Indil described the uses of each weapon, pointed out similarities and features Boromir stared in wonder at her knowledge. How did such a woman come by such knowledge of weaponry, associate of Gandalf or no?

Gimli too had the same reservations but was sorely tempted to speak out regarding her constant referral to elvish and mannish weapons without any regard for those of dwarven make. Such an oversight!

"Finally you must remember that more often than not orcs cover their weapons in poison to ensure their prey does not survive. Even if you have a mere scratch alert one of the Fellowship to your wounds and they will advise you while I am sure Lord Elrond or one of the healers would be more than happy to show you some simple remedies or poultices."

Indil tried to convey the seriousness of the situation to the Hobbits and it appeared that she was successful. All of them, not just Frodo, now eyed the weapons warily as they should have done in the first instance. These were more informed Hobbits, better prepared, more able and less innocent. For good or for bad they needed this information.

Indil let them hold the weapons and allowed them to study them themselves for a while as she took her place at the table. She was joined by everyone except the Hobbits who after a moment or two followed her example. Indil could see that all present were in need of a short break but she could not permit them to leave so despondent.

"Do not forget, dear Hobbits, that we have weapons of our own. No dark bow can match those of the elves or any orcish blade the mighty swords of men. Lest it be forgotten dwarven smith craft is truly spectacular as are their weapons especially with regard to their axes. For each tool our enemy possesses we have another that matches or outshines theirs."

Despite everything Gimli found himself basking in the wonder of the Hobbits stare. He was not the only one affected even the men and elf smiled grimly at her summary.

"Now I think that is all we should consider today lest our hearts become laden with many worries and thoughts of the future which cannot be resolved now. We will meet again tomorrow."

The Hobbits raced to the door eager to fill their stomachs with elevenses and lunch which they had just missed. Gimli followed in a more dignified manner though no less hurriedly for even his stomach had an overwhelming appetite that needed to be sated. Both Aragorn and Legolas stood, bid Indil farewell graciously and departed leaving only Boromir.

Indil did not meet Boromir's gaze as she rose from her position and began to pack away the orcish weapons. Moving quietly he joined her at the sideboard and assisted her in putting the weapons into the sackcloth.

"Tell me Lady Indil where does one come by so many tools of orcish make?"

Indil smiled at the questioning eyebrow Boromir raised in her direction. He still considered her a Lady after all that she had said and revealed?

"Why my Lord all are easily come by in the wilds. To answer plainly some I have kept from past travels and others were taken by the sons of Lord Elrond in recent ventures beyond the forests of Imraldis. I understand they keep some trophies of their encounters and they considerately allowed me the use of them for our meetings."

Boromir looked at Indil sceptically as she placed the last of the swords into the cloth bag leaving the sideboard strangely devoid of objects. Smiling at him Indil bent to lift the bag to have it taken from her gently by Boromir.

"Allow me, my Lady."

Gritting her teeth inwardly Indil forced a smile at Boromir who waited on her to move to the door. Giving way to his wishes Indil walked before him and through the door followed by a confused and intrigued Steward.


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors Note:** Due to the quick response of the kind reviewers. . . . . . ahem - Amrawo and SilverArtimis - I thought it only fair that I upload this chapter just as quickly. I hope that said reviewers enjoy it and all my other readers.

Thanks for the reviews lads, its always much appreciated! ;)

Talk to ye all soon. Ciunas

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Indil had to admire Boromirs' persistence; the eldest of the Stewards sons was not one to be dismissed easily. Walking at a steady pace Indil found the distance left to cover to reach her room near on nigh unbearable with every passing minute.

Boromir, on the other hand, had no such qualms as he enjoyed the fresh winter afternoon. Despite the conversation being decidedly one sided and sporadic, he found his growing curiosity more than able to compensate for such. The lady who walked beside him was an enigma to say the least, beautiful and reticent at the same time she was obviously not what she seemed at first glance. He was not bothered in the least, why desire tiring incessant conversation when one has most intriguing company to examine?

Their steps reverberated quietly around them as they continued ever onward, one staring ahead determinedly the other consumed by his company. Elves passed the odd couple frequently, bowing their heads respectfully before moving on. Each wondered at the expressionless quality on the lady's face and the affable demeanour of the man who walked with her.

Glancing into the gardens as they passed Indil spied Gandalf, upon a stone bench, deep in thought. Though she thought she detected a slight smirk beneath his beard as they walked by she decided not to defer from her present course, less she wanted to enjoy the attention of her enthusiastic companion for the rest of the day.

"I do wonder at the ability of the Elves to keep Rivendell so protected from enemies as well as the natural seasons. In all the time I have been here there has not been a day of severe weather, everything is always pleasant."

"Elves have their ways, Lord Boromir." Replied Indil slowly.

Boromir smiled secretively at Indil, leaning to one side as they followed the corridor faithfully.

"Between us, my Lady, I find myself missing the unpredictable nature of the weather. In particular the snow drifts that usually cover Gondor in a mantle of white at this time of year."

Boromir allowed his thoughts to turn towards Gondor and those who protected it. What was Faramir doing now? Not playing in the feet deep snow plains as they had done as children he was sure. How they had loved the snow, burrowing forts in the white ice and playing out ancient battles or imagining future glory!

Indil glanced at the man who was now lost to past memories and happier times. He looked so much younger now than when in discussion with Gimli or Gandalf and more relaxed than when throwing derisive looks at Aragorn.

"Quite. The white city is a sight to behold when surrounded by snow; I always thought it looks like a lone mountain of ice on the pale plains."

Shaken from his childhood memories Boromir noted the lady's contemplative face.

"You have obviously seen the white city in the depths of winter. Tell me have you seen it in other seasons, for it is no less splendid."

Raising her eyebrow slightly at his probing question Indil answered in a whisper after some time.

"I have . . . I had the pleasure of residing in the white city for a time. When Osgiliath was still a jewel among the cities of Gondor. I remember the music, the happiness, the peace of it all. Oh . . . Boromir it was a sight to behold." She sighed wistfully.

He could not help but feel a little warmer at her use of his given name with no title or sarcasm apparent in her tone. She spoke of his homeland with such admiration that he could not help but imagine her reaction if she was asked to reside there once again.

"I wish you could have seen it." She continued oblivious to the man of Gondors' diminishing feeling at the reminder of the differences that ever separated them.

"So do I . . . so do I." he murmured.

Indil was slightly surprised at the abrupt change in Boromirs' countenance. His mouth once stretched in a smile was now set in a grim line and his brow now downcast as he stared at the floor.

Thankfully, for Indil at least, they arrived at her chambers before Boromir began to talk again. Facing the Stewards' son she considered his grave bearing and listlessness, this was not the same Boromir she had left the meeting with.

"All is not lost. The white city shall not fall; it has never failed as long as I and everyone else can remember. Do not begin to doubt it now son of Denethor. There is always hope." She soothed mistaking the reason for the young Stewards' melancholy.

Boromir appeared little comforted by her words, instead he silently handed the bag to her, bowed gracefully and turned on his heel. Indil watched Boromir ponderingly until he disappeared from view.

"All of us have our loads to bear . . . some more than others." She thought, opening the door and depositing the sack on a chair beside the balcony.

Resting on her bed Indil stared at the ceiling until she could visualise running her hand over every bump and dip. So little time to prepare the Fellowship or rather the Hobbits for their journey . . . so little time. What can be accomplished? What use will it be when they finally face what lies in wait ahead?

"I should not begin to doubt Olorin now. There is always a purpose, always a point." She mused aloud to the still room.

"Still you cannot deny the slim prospects of such a venture." Came the whisper from the darkest corners of her consciousness.

Indeed she could not. Even she had blanched at the foot of the Ash Mountains . . . started at the vacant features of the long dead among the reeds of the marshes . . . cowered at the sight of the black tower. Still, leagues from Mordor, that dark land haunted her dreams and caused a quiver of fear to shake her entire being.

Leaping from the bed Indil strode from the room swiftly, promptly ignoring the gazes and bows of respect from those she passed. Lengthening her stride Indil found herself outside Rivendell, across the bridge and surrounded by trees.

Calmed slightly by the distance she breathed deeply before settling herself in the soft grass alongside the Bruinen. Its faint mumblings and soft babbling soothed her anxious mind. The light of the sun filtered through the canopy of the erratic tree line, creating a strange broken pattern on the water and ground.

Allowing her conscious to slip away from its containment she welcomed the peaceful energy of the stream beside her, the reassuring presence of the ancient wood and the ageless earth. Careful to restrict her absorption to the immediate region, Indil turned her back on the spectre of the land of Mordor to the south.

She could not tell how long she had lingered there for time is inconsequential for nature; it allows time to change, to flow and continue around it without constantly monitoring it like men. Accepting change and adapting to it rather than fighting it futilely.

Regrouping herself and steadily drawing all the strands of her being back Indil noticed the suns position in the western half of the sky. Dinner was probably just about to begin or had begun if she was not mistaken. In spite of her fervent wish to remain beneath the trees and beside the brook Indil reluctantly got to her feet and strolled towards the bridge through the wood.

As was to be expected Rivendell was quite hushed with the absence of many who now, Indil heard, were relaxing in the great hall. Dinner seemed to be over and the party would more than likely retire to the Hall of Fire, much to the chagrin of certain Hobbits.

Indil chuckled at the thought of Merry and Pippins' exasperated looks when everybody stood to move to the Hall of Fire, they were possibly the only creatures besides dwarves who could tire of the fine music and traditions of the elves. Deciding that she did not feel hungry Indil moved in the direction of her room.

Upon reaching her chamber door a small smile graced her lips before she pushed it open.

"Gandalf, what a surprise visit! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Indil exclaimed in a wholly theatrical voice.

Gandalfs' lips quirked beneath his beard at his colleagues' entrance. Of course he had not thought he could surprise her but then one always held a glimmer of hope. Noting the humorous flash in her eyes Gandalf decided to answer in the same vein.

"Do I need a reason to visit my most esteemed associate?" he declared cocking his head to one side as he did so.

"Of course not . . . you never do," Smiled Indil softly, "I suppose you detected my absence. Why is it I can never deceive you, my friend?"

"Ahh that shall remain my secret. I happen to be quite disappointed that I failed to mask my presence from you, I did try particularly hard." Replied Gandalf, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.

Indil grinned at the Istar secretively as she moved to the chest opposite the foot of the bed. Drawing an olive coloured dress from the chest she looked ruefully at the figure upon her bed.

"Do not be troubled Olorin, though I am sure you are not! I would not have noticed your aura if I had not just returned from an exceptional period of meditation and do not forget the fact that you were only a few feet away."

Gandalf nodded appreciatively at her candid explanation, yet again Indil cut straight to the point of the matter. Tilting his head in the direction of the dress in Indils' hands Gandalf smirked.

"I see you are planning on joining this evening, I had to persuade you quite forcefully yesterday."

"Well seeing as I find you sitting on my bed in my chambers I know I have no choice but really Olorin . . . tonight I have no excuse to escape early. Would you subject me to the company of Lord Boromir for the entire evening?"

"Yes I would. He appears to be quite taken with you, my dear. I cannot deprive the boy from such superb company."

Gandalf rose steadily from the bed and opened the door. Indil stood glaring at his back before he turned and waved cheerfully, this time not masking his enjoyment at her situation.

"Shooting glances like that will not save you. I look forward to your presence Indil."

Closing the door firmly, Gandalf smiled to himself as he perceived a grumbled sentence.

"The only reason you 'forced' me to go yesterday was because I was tired and not in my right mind."

Indil nodded contently as the clicks of Gandalfs' staff faded into the gloom, she was sure he had heard her. No matter, there was no way she could avoid the Hall of Fire this evening.

Sighing passively she changed into the adequate dress before twisting her hair back into a presentable, or a somewhat tolerable, half-knot. Throwing a sorrowful peek over her shoulder Indil left the dark comfort of her chambers behind.

She met nobody on her way to the Hall of Fire so she arrived just as the last of the dinner party was entering. Fortunately the crowd was relatively cheerful and taking their time to settle down into their prospective seats. Edging into the Hall as stealthily as she could Indil spied a chair in the more shadowed side of the Hall, just beside the Hobbits. Gliding as gracefully as she could manage while trying to remain hidden behind various elves she collapsed into the chair unnoticed. Only then did she take some time to discern the members of the Fellowship among the throng of Elves, dwarves and other lords.

The Hobbits sat chatting merrily slightly in front of her to her left, while Gandalf sat quite closely to Lord Elrond at the furthest end of the Hall near to the fire on her right. Spying her form in the shadows Gandalf winked secretively in her direction to which Indil, not daring to be too obvious, dipped her head in acknowledgement. Gandalf chuckled heartily at the sight of his companion lurking in the shadows for fear of company, almost exactly what Radagast would do in such an environment.

Around Lord Elrond and Gandalf sat various elves of his house and family. Arwen Undomniel and her brothers, the Lords Elladan and Elrohir, were conversing animatedly. It had been a while since they had seen each other since Elladan and Elrohir were constantly out hunting orc and Arwen usually resided within Lothlorien in the safekeeping of her grandparents. Aragorn too was part of their party, adding his piece in here and there between glances full of love and adoration for Arwen in whose eyes shone contentment.

Opposite to them sat Prince Legolas and his company of silvan elves. Despite the informal air of the Hall they cast secretive glances about them, though with the utmost deference and respect as was possible. Indil noticed in particular the frequent glares traded between them and the group of dwarves who were positioned diagonally across from Indil. Beside them sat Boromir, as grim and inert as he had been when he had deposited her at her chamber door earlier in the evening. Every once in a while though he managed to pull his head up from its' fixed gaze on the floor to glance at the door and around the Hall in general. Shrinking further back into the shadows Indil sighed gratefully as his gaze slid over her and onto the Hobbits, who continued chatting about the Green Dragon oblivious to her.

It was apparent that Gandalf was not the only one to notice Indils' thankful air as Lord Boromir failed to distinguish her among the occupants of the Hall. Indil scanned the Hall only to find the amused faces of Prince Legolas and a couple of other elves looking in her direction while Gandalf struggled to maintain the serious façade of a learned Istar.

Silently Indil warned Prince Legolas as best as she could from her position across the Hall. Delight and understanding flickered in his cerulean eyes before he struck up a conversation with the elf next to him.

Satisfied Indil relaxed, allowing the warmth of the fire to ease her body and lull her mind into a pensive state.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors Note: **_Hello All! I'm back after a month I think. . . . cringe. . . well I have an excuse. Teaching Practice. Absolute madness for three weeks. I am soooo tired. I would as always like to thank my reviewers- Bookworm, Silver Artemis etc. Much appreciated those reviews no matter how short and sweet. Go raibh mile maith agaibh- A thousand thank you's._

_I think that this chapter is a little lighter than most, I felt that it might lighten the story a little. If it works it works, If it doesn't I'm sure you will let me know ;) Anyway Happy St. Paddys' Day or as they say in Irish Lá Fheile Pádraig. Have a good one. Ciunas._

_By the way the above note was written a week ago, when I uploaded this chapter. I went on about my business thinking it had gone up but something went wrong and everything was left blank when I tried to view the chapter. The word count went up and everything so apologies everyone. Just got this sorted._

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At the edge of her consciousness Indil felt something nudge her arm persistently. Pulling back from the dark security of her mind she slowly opened her eyes wary of the evening firelight. Staring at her, eyes twinkling and arms held behind his back was Pippin.

In most cases Indil trusted her senses completely but right now she found herself doubting their screaming at the look shining from the blue eyed creature before her. Instead of a slightly bashful aura which usually surrounded the young hobbit when around her, he was not only quite close to her but also began to sway dangerously in her direction. It was then that Indil noted the rosy flush to Pippins' cheeks, his unsteady footing and his generally unkempt appearance.

The low chatter in the background and sleeping hobbits slumped in their chairs within her view indicated the progression of the night. Their empty glasses upon the ground lay about the sleeping hobbits like bones around sleeping dogs.

Without warning Pippin interrupted Indils' assessment of the environment.

"Wer . . . sleep hic . . . were your . . . youuu . . . sleeping?"

Indil struggled to maintain a straight face as Pippin laboured to vocalise, what was by all accounts, a simple sentence. Her mirth did not last long though as Pippin leaned dangerously forward after managing to spurt out his question staring unabashedly into her eyes.

"No Pippin. Just resting my eyes." Replied Indil drawing back from the dorwinion wine-laden breath tickling her cheek.

Now she was worried, well not worried but anxious, Pippin seemed to have lost any timidity he had possessed previously. Not that it was a bad thing but in this situation it only posed difficulty for her and promised for an eventful evening if she did not sort it out now.

"Your . . . verrr . . . ry . . . prettt . . . preeee . . . prreety." Slurred Pippin, striving courageously to seem serious. His hands rested on either arm of her chair effectively pinning her to her chair unless she was to break his hold to escape.

"Thank you Pippin." Answered Indil shortly dodging the dangerously unsteady hobbit as he finally lost all his bearings and collapsed into her newly vacated seat.

Indil could do nothing but stand still as every pair of eyes turned to focus on the events unfurling at the side of the Hall. Groaning inwardly Indil met Boromirs' confused look. Smiling gently Indil tried to look like she was laughing off the whole exchange. Bending down beside the confused hobbit she helped him off her chair as gently but as firmly she could without being too obvious.

"Pippin can you stand?" she whispered into his ear.

Unfortunately Pippin had not sobered up at his precarious fall, gripping her arm quite robustly Pippin grinned deviously. Indil saw what was coming but could not manoeuvre herself out from between the inebriated hobbit and her chair quickly enough. 

Both landed on the floor Pippin on top of the bewildered Indil with his lips pressed firmly on hers. Before she could react Pippin was yanked off her by a thundering Gandalf. Indil was still in shock when Elladan assisted her to her feet, reeling from what had just happened in the presence of most if not all the inhabitants of Rivendell.

Gandalf had disappeared outside with Pippin while Elladan had been helping Indil up. When she had recovered enough to look about she found the hobbits had woken up and were staring blearily around the Hall wondering at the animated behaviour of its occupants. They seemed quite agitated; a mood which in all the time they had spent in the Last Homely House had not been seen before especially during the evening in the Hall of Fire.

Suddenly Indil felt hemmed in, elves surrounded her bombarding her with sympathetic looks and comforting gestures. The only ones who had remained seated were the dwarves who were trying not to laugh at what had passed, though their beards could not hide all their grins. They were managing much better than Legolas whose countenance bespoke of the absolute hilarity with which he viewed the whole incident. Rather than clamouring to comfort the silent woman he stood behind the crowd chuckling quietly to himself. Aragorn was no better smirking as he leaned on Lord Elronds' now empty chair. In fact, now that she looked closely at those trying to comfort her they had hints of smiles in the upturned corners of their mouths. 

Indil could do nothing but fling promising looks of absolute pain in the direction of the fellowship members if they should continue to laugh at her situation. She had thought that this would work sadly Pippin was not the only one whose sense of self-preservation had been skewed by dorwinion wine. After managing to maintain a more serious façade for a few short minutes Aragorn and Legolas had to turn from Indils' glare. Shaking shoulders and clenched hands were all she could discern but it spoke clearly of what they were trying to cover up.

Anything however would have been more welcome than Boromirs' reaction.

"My Lady are you well? You are not hurt? Let me help you to your seat."

If anything his incessant chatter was worse than the infuriating laughter of Aragorn and Legolas. Flitting about her like a mother hen Boromir primped her seat, fetched her water, checked her for bruises . . . the man would simply not stop touching her.

"Lord Boromir I assure you I am well. Thank you . . . no I do not require more water . . . my seat is quite comfortable . . . nor am I cold, please calm yourself." Indil grated while pulling the flustered Steward firmly into a chair beside her.

It was only then that she took note of the fury that radiated off the man; it even gleamed treacherously in his eyes. His gaze swung from her to the door and back every so often, so much so that Indil prayed Gandalf had enough sense to not bring Pippin back indoors. Furthermore it might be wise to hide Pippin in the forests of Imraldis for a week or so.

"I cannot believe the cheek of that miscreant, he has been nothing but trouble . . ." growled Boromir glowering openly at the door.

Indil could simply not fathom the man beside her. Why was he so angry? Could he not sense the amusing undercurrent surrounding the situation? Or was he simply making a heroic effort to appear affronted on her behalf?

"It was nothing my Lord, simply a little too much wine. I am not hurt. I believe that Pippins' pride will be more damaged than mine." Smiled Indil anxiously at the frowning Steward.

"Nothing! The little devil accosted you in public in a most distressing manner! How can you laugh at his antics?"

Despite herself Indil could not help but smile and then laugh at the whole situation. She had been accosted by a hobbit, kissed rather strongly by one of the shortest suitors she had ever encountered and was now trying to calm down a Steward of Gondor.

"Lord Boromir I have been . . . how did you put it . . . oh yes accosted at various times in my life and in a much more distressing manner than what has befallen here tonight."

Lord Boromir was slightly amazed at the woman's blasé manner about the incident. If it had been a lady of Gondor serious repercussions would be in store for the hobbit. The lady herself would probably be in convulsions at what had passed and most likely unconscious on the floor.

"Then again I must remember she is no lady of Gondor." He thought.

Almost all the crowd had dispersed back to their seats not wishing to make the ordeal any more stressing for the strange woman. That however did not prevent a few smiles and giggles at Indils' expense. She did not mind, if she was the cause of some mirth in these dark times she was more than happy to oblige. Left alone with a slightly calmer Boromir Indil faced the situation she had been trying to avoid all night.

"It is very unusual for such an event to be passed off lightly by a Lady." Murmered Boromir.

"I am no Lady of Gondor or otherwise my Lord. I do not doubt that Pippin will be embarrassed enough tomorrow at our meeting without my scorn for his actions. Well he might have had a little more control but he is young and such folly is always attached with such youth." Spoke Indil softly.

If anything Boromir could feel his admiration for his companion double at her words. She was not concerned with her own embarrassment, no she only thought of the one who had been so brash as to land both her and himself in an awkward situation.

The low murmuring of voices swelled once again in the background as the firelight danced across the faces of elves, dwarves and men alike. Peace once again restored the minstrels began to sing the lays which had been interrupted before. Indil relaxed back into her chair deliberating silently as to whether she should go after Gandalf and Pippin or not. Surely Gandalf had not been in the best of humour when he had left with the inebriated hobbit.

Boromir felt calm wash over him, it was always so in her presence. Her beauty was astounding tonight in the firelight, raven locks falling about her in waves and emerald eyes twinkling. 

"Still Lady Arwen shines brighter than any star in the night sky." Mused Boromir catching a glimpse of said lady reseated beside her brothers and Aragorn smiling over Pippins' actions.

The dwarves had managed to appear the least ruffled at the past incident and had now returned to a serious conversation regarding Moria. Their thick eyebrows knitted together they sat in an enclosed circle heads bent in thought. 

"There is one conversation I am glad to be excluded from." Sighed Boromir.

The elves were merry making again and the Mirkwood party had relaxed more into the spirit of the evening chatting animatedly, albeit amongst themselves, instead of throwing wary looks about the room. In contrast to the Hobbits who had decided that whatever had passed would be better discussed in the morning and despite the disappearance of one of their party they promptly adopted the sleeping positions they had held earlier.

"What occupies your thoughts so singularly?"

Indil smiled at Boromir's question, the opportunity for fun just lay open at her feet asking to be taken up. Sighing softly she adopted a far off look and a dreamy air.

"I am just thinking of he who not long ago crushed me to the ground."

It was very difficult to keep her act up as Boromir gaped like a floundering fish. After a few seconds laughter burst from her in gales as she clutched her stomach. Boromir could only laugh along after realising he had been duped so easily.

The two made an interesting pair, both rendered speechless and helpless as they tried to stay in their seats. From across the Hall all but one silvan elf returned to the conversation that had been flowing before. Confusion flashed briefly in his eyes before something akin to resentment took over. Rending his gaze from the pair he answered a question posed by one of his companions.

It was not quick enough however to escape the notice of the single ranger in the room whose attention had drifted momentarily from his love.


	11. Chapter 11

**Authors' note: ** Okay you lot REVIEW!! LOL took me long enough to write this chapter because I simply couldn't find the right way to end it. Well it got finished eventually- it's a long chappie so sit down and relax. Thanks again to my reviewers- Crecy and Enyamorntuilr. Happy reading ;)

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Pacing the room Indil folded her arms, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Fellowship members. Maps of Isengard, weapons marked with a white hand and worn scrolls laid out she was prepared for the upcoming meeting. With the chairs moved back and forth three times in succession, two more logs added to the fire and the heavy drapes pulled back there was nothing to do but wait. Wait, in silence, for them. Listening to the everyday noises, permeating through the solid oak door, of the early morning household going about its business Indil felt time drag by agonisingly slowly. The maids rushing here and there, cooks, stablehands, librarians, gardeners . . . they all had their own distinct sounds and smells. Whether it was their gait, the rustle of a particular fabric, their pattern of breathing, something gave away their occupation.

Frowning uncharacteristically Indil finally succumbed to the inevitable and collapsed into the chair at the head of the table. Impatiently her fingers tapped out a steady rhythm on the arm of her seat. It was not speaking to the Fellowship that set her on edge but dealing with Pippin after last nights events. She had had all night to consider the best course of action, anything was better than sleep . . . anything.

She had not seen the young Hobbit after he was removed from the room by a less than amused Gandalf. In fact she had not seen him at breakfast or walking the corridors of the Last Homely House at all this morning. The four other Hobbits had been embarrassed at the breakfast table, apologising profusely for Pippins' actions making excuses surrounding his playful nature and inexperience with drinking apart from the weak ale available in the Green Dragon. She had waved it all off explaining there was no harm done and that it was actually quite entertaining now that she thought about it. Sam had looked like he was about to faint in front of her, she had heard about the threats he had received from Gandalf . . . something regarding toads . . . while Merry was blushing furiously at his cousins' actions. Frodo and Bilbo had been the most stoic of the lot albeit most apologetic regarding the whole situation.

Lord Elrond himself had called her to his study to discuss what had passed between herself and the inebriated Hobbit. After reassuring the elven lord that she had taken no offense and did not wish any further action or punishment arranged he had been happy enough to let her go. Still his parting words had been rolling about in her head for some time.

"The comfort of my guests and the maintenance of respect among the inhabitants of my home is, for me, of the utmost importance. Be they elf, man, dwarf, Hobbit . . . immortal or mortal I will not have any guest of Rivendell left with a distasteful memory."

"I still cannot make out which is more important to him; my pride or the way in which Rivendell is perceived." Mused Indil.

Still she would give the elven Lord the benefit of the doubt and believe he was concerned about her well being and that of Rivendells' occupants above all else. Considering everything Lord Elrond had been quite understanding and had left her at ease concerning Pippin and his future stay at Rivendell.

It had only taken a few minutes to assure Lord Elrond that she was quite alright, Boromir was another matter entirely.

Although he had regained most of his composure by the time he had escorted Indil to her room there was still a hint of anger at the young Hobbits' actions. She could not douse the fire completely but a while longer and she was sure the embers would fade also. The company of the stewards' son last night could have been described as almost bearable. Once Boromir had settled down and relaxed Indil found he did have a sense of humour. He very nearly forgot who and what she was; so much so that he was much more enjoyable to be around. Without all the formal titles and manners he was easier to get on with compared to any of the other members of the Fellowship. Except perhaps for the Hobbits, even if relations there were a little awkward at the moment.

That was nothing though to the frosty reception she had experienced in the presence of Legolas this morning. In all honesty she could not fathom the icy expressions and glares being thrown at her from the top of the table. Even when she had tried to talk to the elven prince he had dismissed her, well not quite dismissed her but had brushed off any attempt at conversation. It was not as if she wished to discuss the inner workings of Eryn Lasgalen or such . . . indeed all she had had in mind was a mere rebuke for his behaviour last night.

"It is not for me to question the motives of silvan elves . . . goodness knows Thranduil had a reputation for a strange and quick temperament. The prince did not display any of this though when I was talking to him at the archery range . . ."

The annoying thing was that no sooner did she manage to get on the good side of one member of the Fellowship she lost whatever friendship she had forged with another. It was most infuriating, especially when she was trying to get into a position from which she could keep her promise to Gandalf. How could she advise anyone when no person was willing to come to her or seek out her advise? She would have to gain their trust somehow. With time perhaps . . .

A new sound distinguished itself from the hum drum noises of everyday life. The scuffing of a leather boot on stone . . . new leather . . . it was a dull thudding sound fringed with a thick squeak. Aragorn perhaps . . . no . . . the gait was not that of a ranger in his home. Too tentative but then again purposeful . . . ahh . . . it can only be Boromir.

True enough to her prediction there was a cautious knock followed by a relieved Gondorian. Smiling at Indil he bowed before moving to a seat on her right.

"I am used to a large number of corridors and such but I suppose it is the new surroundings that has unsettled me so. I cannot seem to remember the way to anywhere except for necessary rooms such as the Hall of Fire and dining Hall."

Boromir grinned playfully at Indil who managed to control her laughing admirably. Smiling behind her hand she nodded her assent at what Boromir was insinuating.

"I felt so awkward this morning. I confess I had planned to follow you to this room and wait here until the appointed time but I lost sight of you almost immediately after you left the breakfast table."

Indil had known the Steward was looking for her but she had been too preoccupied with looking for Pippin. She had not wanted an audience when and if she were to meet Pippin on the corridor especially not Boromir since she felt he still held some resentment toward the young Hobbit.

"Well thankfully you managed to find your way here my Lord. Else our meeting would have been severely lacking."

"Most certainly my Lady." Replied Boromir latching on to the humorous tone in her voice.

Reaching for the maps in the centre of the table Boromir drew the one of Isengard to him. Grimacing thoughtfully he stared at the map too engrossed in his own ideas to notice Indil rise and move to the window. The morning air was fresh and welcome as she peered out at the Misty Mountains dominating the view. The sky was a clear shade of blue only to be found in the shallowest of streams, lonely clouds drifted across the morning sky peacefully completely at odds with the world on which they looked down. On the breeze there was a faint hint of lavender mixed in with some herb . . . whatever it was the sweet scent mixed with that of the lavender made it all the more pleasing.

"You plan to concentrate on Isengard and our fallen ally today?"

Pulling back from the calming wind Indil dragged her face around to look at the inquisitive man.

"Yes. As our most recently exposed enemy Saruman is a force I would like to consider. He knows our ways better than any other, making him the most dangerous foe we face . . . next to Sauron of course."

Strange how those you once considered a comrade and friend could turn in an utterly different direction than you had thought they would. None of the order had suspected our wise leader . . . no one. It was the misfortune of Gandalf to discover that secret. Radagast had not been seen for weeks . . . it was not like him to uproot and leave. Not in times such as these when all our power needs to be gathered together.

"Should we fear the white wizard? What kind of power does he hold?"

More than he should . . . more than he should.

"In both terms of physical and mental power Saruman is one of the most learned beings I have ever encountered. To be in his presence is to be dwarfed. I will discuss his more unusual powers when the others arrive but suffice it to say that Saruman is one enemy we could do without."

Indil leaned her head to the side momentarily before straightening and looking at the door. Just as she had composed herself in walked Aragorn and Legolas followed promptly by Gimli. Aragorn stopped and bowed as Boromir had done previously before seating himself opposite the Gondorian. Gimli followed suit but sat on the right side of Boromir. Legolas did not even bother to bow but dipped his head speedily before claiming the seat next to Aragorn.

Silence once again reigned in the meeting room. An uncomfortable silence that begged to be broken. Gimli, ever the dwarf, studied the rock walls from his seat interestedly while Aragorn remained the silent intense ranger. Legolas, tracing the rings within the bark on the table, did not even look up.

"Myself and Lord Boromir were just discussing our newest enemy, Saruman. He is one we could do without certainly but . . . I would make a request of those here present."

With those very words Indil captured the attention of each individual within the room. Still she waited for a while before reseating herself at the head of the table.

"I would like for each of you to speak briefly of any meeting you may have had with the white wizard or any of his servants. I believe it would be of crucial benefit for the Hobbits. I myself can illustrate many instances where Saruman has revealed some of his power but maybe accounts from different sources would lend some credence to my descriptions."

Calmly Indil met the gaze of the four beings around her. Stormy grey eyes approved of her decision . . . in Aragorn at least she had support. Gimli nodded his head sagely.

"We have had many dealings with the white wizards' servants as have the men of Dale."

Boromir looked pensive before nodding along with Gimli.

"I remember some instances where missives were sent from Gondor to Isengard in my youth . . . though recent dealings have been much more sinister and silent."

Indil turned to the final member of the Fellowship waiting on his reply. The indifferent bob of Legolas' head was all the answer she received.

"Thank you. I will begin with the weapons of Isengard and of some troubling news Gandalf has discovered before we move onto your tales . . . if only the Hobbits would arrive."

Tilting her head confusedly Indil looked toward the oak door. Aragorn seemed to have noticed something also glancing at the door briefly.

A timid knock on the door reverberated throughout the room. Inexplicably all eyes turned on Indil who remained the picture of serenity as she called enter. In through the door one. . . then two . . . then three hobbits appeared. Frodo first, followed by Sam and then Merry. Aware that they were the last to arrive they threw apologetic looks at Indil before moving toward the table. Indil smiled to herself as Merry realised the absence of the last of their group. Yanking the door wide open he revealed a suitably embarrassed Pippin, head ducked to his chest, looking for all the world that he was going to drop dead at the threshold.

Shyly he shuffled into the room after his cousin and joined him at the lower end of the table. Eyes fixed firmly on the floor he did not notice Indil smile sympathetically, Boromir glare coolly nor the grins of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli seated at the table. Clearing her throat Indil caught Pippins' eyes briefly before beginning.

"Now that we have all arrived I thought we could begin todays' discussion surrounding Isengard and Saruman the fallen leader of my order."

Rising slowly Indil moved the map Boromir had been studying to the centre of the table.

"Isengard lies just above Rohan and Gondor in a small pass known commonly as the Gap of Rohan." Indil circled the area with her forefinger before pointing directly at Sarumans' stronghold.

"Nestled in a valley surrounded by the southernmost tip of the Misty Mountains Isengard is a formidable stronghold. In addition to its' gorges and mountainsides the River Isen protects the eastern flank of the tower. To attack Isengard is a huge undertaking since you must either face it directly from the south or cross the mountains on either side, the eastern side being the most difficult approach with Fangorn lying upon the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains. It is an undertaking that we must consider for the future since it may become a necessary move."

Not wanting to give the Hobbits too much information Indil stopped and passed the map to the lower end of the table. Crouching over the map with their eyebrows knit in their normally jovial countenances the Hobbits tried to get their bearings.

"To the immediate south of Isengard lies Rohan and beyond the White Mountains or Ered Nimrais, Gondor. Rohan is in immediate danger . . . with King Theoden reputed to have taken into his service a man named Grima Wormtongue." Indil grimaced distastefully at the thought.

"I have had the pleasure of encountering this Wormtongue myself once and suffice it to say that his name is a powerful portrayal. Full of deceit and lies Grima has bended the Kings' thoughts to darker ideas.

"Gondor is somewhat better protected by the fact that the White Mountains provide a barrier to keep the white wizard and Mordor at bay . . . for a time." Here Indil let her words wash over the company. Silent and brooding even the hobbits understood the gravity of the situation she was describing.

"How long before that barrier becomes Gondors' own worst enemy?" posed Aragorn aloud.

"It is not a question of if but when. My people are struggling to eke out a living as it is with trade routes considered more dangerous than ever. Relations with Rohan have been quiet of late. I presume that this Grima has a hand in all of it . . ." growled Boromir thinking of his homeland.

"Wormtongue cannot be blamed for everything. Rohan has ever been the friend of Gondor, recent developments and perhaps ignorance on the part of Gondor is to blame." Put forward Legolas.

"We cannot be expected to keep an eye on everything. The hordes of Mordor presented a more pressing worry over the past few years. I saw no expression of friendship from the elves . . . and the rangers run about in the wilderness like headless chickens!" exclaimed an increasingly irate Boromir.

"We are few in number and so thinly stretched that if I were to extend our activities to Gondor we would be all but useless. Do not be mistaken Boromir, I have a couple of men who now and again take the trouble to visit Gondor and reports have not been favourable."

"Of course they have been less than pleasing we face the might of Mordor alone. ."

"Ciuin." With a single word both men and elf found themselves pressed back against their chairs.

The shock at the abruptness of the event left them speechless as they turned to face an irate Indil.

"Should have things been done differently. . . if Gondor had done this . . . if the rangers had moved further south . . . if Saruman had never been chosen to lead . . if . . .if." ground Indil from between clenched jaws.

"A ridiculous amount of if's in your suggestions gentlemen. What is past is past. There is no amount of speculation that can change our situation at the moment so unless you have some semblance of a proposal I advise you keep your if's to yourselves."

The Hobbits had never seen Indil so angered. Her eyes glistened like stone as she glared at the three, hands placed on the table palm down, leaning dangerously toward them. Suddenly the men and elf were released from whatever hold had been upon them as Indil sat back down. Frodo fancied he caught Gimli smirking beneath his beard before he looked at Indil once again.

"As these lords kindly pointed out both Rohan and Gondor are pushed to their limits. With the King of Rohan under the spell of one Wormtongue and Gondor pressed to hold off Mordor we gentlemen are the one last chance. Should Isengard choose to attack, Rohan will more than likely retreat to the fortress of Helms Deep. There is no where else to go, if they try to escape north they can only pass Isengard and be faced with Dol Goldur in Rhovanion."

Indil struggled to maintain a calm exterior as Aragorn and Boromir glared at each other across the table.

"What is Helms Deep?"

Indil smiled, trust Sam to put her on the right path again.

"Helms Deep is the ancient fortress of the people of Rohan. Surrounded on three sides by the White Mountains it is as well defended as Isengard. Thick walls block the entrance to the fort while the keep is also protected. The dwarves I believe were instrumental in aiding Eorls' people in its' construction."

Gimli puffed with pride at the mention of the deeds of his ancestors.

"Aye. We planned, prepared and built those walls that have never been breached. The length of a man thick they could withstand any kind of assault Sauron cooks up." Boasted Gimli to the wondering Hobbits.

"Today is not for Rohan or Gondor however it is to talk about Saruman. Now as I was saying Isengard is well defended and is almost impossible to enter without the permission of its' master Saruman. Gandalf did make a trip to Isengard before even you, Frodo, had left the Shire for Bree. I myself had not been in contact with the leader of our order for some years and was busy with the increased activity of Mordor. Therefore it fell to Gandalf to consult Saruman about various issues." Sighing into her hands Indil paused.

"What he saw shocked him to say the least but we do not have time for that. The end result was his imprisonment by Saruman."

Indil allowed this to make an impact on the Fellowship. The Hobbits stared at her in disbelief while Gimli blustered about the impertinence of Saruman. Boromir had a look of alarm on his brow while Legolas was distressed at the news. Aragorn was the only one of the lot to remain silent and unmoved by the revelation. Gandalf had probably informed the ranger during his time at Rivendell.

"This unfortunately was not the worst of occurrences at Isengard. While imprisoned Gandalf had time to examine what was going on behind the walls of Isengard. He found a most treacherous deed . . . Saruman has cross bred orcs with goblin men. A new race has been bred and born to exact the whims of the White Wizard alone. They are known as the Uruk-hai."

The outcry was almost immediate. The Hobbits looked terrified at the prospect of something more dangerous than an orc, a being they had yet to encounter. Gimli was stock still in his chair while the men and elf leapt from their seats with questions and horrified expressions.

"My reaction was quite similar." Mused Indil as she waited mutely for the company to retake their seats and calm down.

"How could this have gone unnoticed?" cried Legolas, one hand grasping the window sill.

"The ways of the White Wizard are sly and cunning. He hid from everyone his mind and plans behind the walls of Isengard." Was all the answer Indil could provide.

"Do we know how many there could possibly be? An army or a squadron?" voiced the pale Gondorian to her right.

"We do not know for sure. I am more likely to believe that if Saruman has managed to develop this race it is for an army and not a personal protection squadron. Gandalf did not see clearly how many there were but Saruman is not so naive as to create only a handful of these beasts."

The Fellowship wordlessly accepted her proposal. Saruman, now their enemy, had potentially an army with which he alone could threaten Middle Earth.

"When Gandalf informed me of these developments I took the liberty of travelling to Rohan to observe and aquire information on these Uruk-hai. The people of Rohan have had to stave warbands off for a few months now, warbands of creatures never heard tell of before. They were kind enough to provide me with some of the weaponry they recovered from the skirmishes."

Leaving her seat Indil moved to the sideboard and removed the weapons placed there to the table. In total there were two bows, a sword, a breastplate, helmet and some daggers. All the weapons were as crude as those of Mordor, the same jagged edges, bulky weight and black in colour. The only thing that stood them apart from the weapons of the orcs were their size and on the armour there was painted or rather pressed a hand shape in a white liquid.

Passed around the table like pieces of ancient scraps they were viewed with curiosity to disgust to pure hatred. The Hobbits were more intrigued than the others fingering the weapons closely. Legolas almost recoiled from the weapons as if they could lunge out at him at any second.

"This is their mark." Signalled Indil knocking on the white hand of the breastplate.

"From the size of the armour and the descriptions given to me by the people in the villages these Uruk-hai can range in height, though most are taller than your average orc."

To indicate the size she meant to the Hobbits Indil placed her hand around her head height. More than twice, perhaps thrice, the height of Gimli these creatures would make difficult opponents.

"They are bigger though more sluggish than a quick orc. The men said that one stroke of a sword could run cleanly through a man . . . this might be a little imaginative but it demonstrates a point. The most curious thing was however that these raids took place in broad daylight."

Turning to the Hobbits Indil explained further.

"Usually orcs cannot travel in the midday sun, evening and early morning perhaps but never in the middle of a bright day with no cloud cover."

"So we have now not just orcs and goblins to worry about but this new race . . . these uruk-hai. Stronger, bigger and better than orcs . . ."

Boromir trailed off with a look of absolute despair.

"Do not be too pessimistic. Yes this race is bigger and stronger but they are not indestructible. A carefully aimed blow can kill an uruk just as quickly as an orc."

"The lass is right. Look at us dwarves! Bigger does not mean better laddie. We dwarves have a saying 'Bigger it is the harder it falls'. Granted that usually applies to hammers but you get my point. . ."

Gimli's little bit of humour lightened the atmosphere considerably in the room. The Hobbits laughed at the saying agreeing with Gimli regarding his views on size while the others smiled grimly.

"This is a blow but it is not the death knell of us all. Do not forget you intend to avoid these creatures for as long as you can. I made the journey here in relative peace."

Whatever words Indil said could not dispel the air of gloom that sat heavily in the room. The weapons seemed twice as big on the elven table, dominating it, dwarfing it.

"Perhaps we should get some lunch. I am afraid we have missed it but I am sure the kitchens will accommodate us. We can continue afterward."

The company met Indils' suggestion with relief. Slowly the room emptied leaving only Indil. Gathering the weapons she returned them to the sideboard where they looked less intimidating. With one last glance she joined Boromir who had waited for her in the corridor.


	12. Chapter 12

**Authors' note:** Hey guys thanks for all the reviews. I want to sincerely apologise about the delay but there is a good reason. I was just considering where I want Indil to go and what her role will be in the future. All I will say at the moment is that while she will be with the Fellowship for a time she does have her own journey to fulfill. So that is just a taster of what I have been debating. Thanks to JamieT19: your story is brilliant, thanks for taking the time to review, Bookworm2011: a loyal reviewer! thank you and DivineSubjugation: thanks for your lovely comments.

So without further ado, let the story continue!!

* * *

Closing the door quietly behind her Indil turned to follow the Fellowship to the Great Hall. Keeping her eyes trained on the backs of the hobbits ahead she noticed how the sun, shining sporadically through the openings onto the courtyard, lifted the rich colours of their garments to more vibrant shades and then back to their original intense colour. The Hobbits' carried on oblivious to the symphony of colour playing behind them. Occasionally servants, on their rounds, passed in and out of doorways smiling at the Fellowship as they moved. Otherwise they remained largely undisturbed as they walked, surrounded by the quiet calm of Rivendell.

"When you said you had a relatively peaceful journey here, what did you mean?" questioned Boromir, breaking Indil from her reverie.

Her mind flashed back to that moment on the plains of Enedwaith. She had not been expecting any trouble. . . maybe an encounter with some Dunlendings but they were easily scared.

"I was simply telling you all that I did not meet with much trouble on my journey." Replied Indil.

"You do not deny then that the journey was not without any dangers?"

Smiling secretively Indil glanced at the Gondorian.

"Lord Boromir, you are more like your father than you suppose. Yes I did have a little difficulty nevertheless it was nothing I could not handle."

Well, she had managed to eventually to see them off even if it had taken longer than she would have liked.

"Does this little difficulty include these Uruk-hai you mentioned earlier?" queried Boromir, determined to be told the full truth.

The set of his face and the glint in his eye broached no more riddles or elusions. Sighing Indil gathered her thoughts, trying to make order of the chaotic details that had come rushing back concerning that particular evening.

"I was returning from my visit to Rohan. The few days I spent there were consumed with asking the villagers for their help and questioning them about these war bands, they were happy to oblige once they were sure of me. My choice in clothing does not encourage a friendly welcome to be sure and these people have had to face the most horrific attacks imaginable Boromir. At any rate I had finished visiting the villages in the area and had collected what evidence they offered so I decided to continue on to Rivendell as had been planned previously with Gandalf."

Taking a breath Indil allowed the memories to wash over her. . . every smell and feeling. Her breath . . . the thundering noise behind her growing steadily louder . . . the movement of Tintreach across the rough ground . . .

"I was able to pass through the Gap of Rohan during the night and as far from Isengard as possible. Holding to the course of the River Isen as it passes through the land, I crossed it and made my way north across the Enedwaith plains. I was cautious though perhaps less so than on my initial journey to Rohan. Dunlendings do not pose a serious threat to me. . . a flash of fire or light and they run so I had no reason to be unduly anxious. It was during the second day of travel from Rohan that they appeared. On the horizon I noticed large black figures coming from the east. By this time I had reached the River Greyflood and there was only a couple of leagues to travel until crossing the northern branch of that river would be possible. Even so I moved my horse closer to the bank of the river, I thought that if these creatures were orcs I would be too far away to be seen and fortunately the wind was carrying my scent away so there was little chance of detection. Still as I continued on this group of creatures maintained their course in my direction albeit from a distance."

Immersed in the story Indil did not realise they had reached the Great Hall until Boromir held the door open for her. Seated beside him she continued.

"I was now less comfortable. I understood that these things were not the nine since they were not using horses, they could not be orcs given that they were travelling in broad daylight though that was at first what they had appeared to be. I could not fathom what these creatures could be. It was strange that the Uruk-hai did not leap immediately into my mind but I was so consumed with escape that I did not realise that fact until later on. All the while I urged my tiring mount, Tintreach, on for I dared not stop. The sun was low and I knew that if I wished to leave these things behind I had to reach the ford and quickly."

Taking a deep breath Indil tried to dispel the fluttering in the pit of her stomach as the moments of the chase became clearer and clearer. Ignoring the fruit and bread in front of her she resumed her story.

"I was only perhaps a league away, even less . . . but they were very close . . . and getting closer."

Boromir stared at Indil openly, it was if she had forgotten he was present. She did not acknowledge any of the activities around her, gazing unfocusedly into the distance.

"I remember thinking that Tintreach was tired out . . . I looked over my shoulder. At first my hair was in my way but when it cleared . . . They were huge. Bigger than any orc I had ever seen or battled, in a group of about twenty maybe twenty-five. The noise was deafening . . . then it came to me . . . Uruk-hai"

Gesturing with her hands as she spoke Indil waved them dismissively. Touching a hidden ear briefly she tilted her head to the side.

"When they knew I had seen them they . . . they were happy Boromir. Laughing as if they could not wait to have their fun with me. Grinning with their black gums and fangs . . . roaring as well . . . Tintreachs' hooves were silenced by those roars. And the armour . . . intimidating when handled in a peasants' cottage but even worse when rattling on what were frenzied animals."

By now everyone was listening, Indil did not seem to realise that her audience had grown. The Hobbits' eyes were wide with fear while Aragorn studied Indil intensely, a chunk of bread forgotten in his hand.

"Tintreach would not last," Indil shook her head slowly "I had only one option. Running was not the answer. Thankfully Tintreach managed to get to the ford, so at least I had the added help of the river. Barely though, I had just dismounted when they came over the hill above the far bank of the river. I remember for the first time, in a long time . . . feeling fear. I knew it was only myself and a half dead horse facing these beasts with a miserable river the only thing separating us."

As she spoke Indil smiled briefly at the thought, her face slipped back to its former serious melancholy set quickly. Boromir could not take his eyes from her face . . . the way she spoke, the look in her eyes. . .

"They charged regardless of each other, the only thing they were intent on was me. I was able to dispatch the first few from the opposite bank but there were too many for me to deal with using magic alone. The river surged a bit faster with a few select words and picked up two or three of the lighter ones. By the time they had reached my side half had been dealt with. They were bigger up close . . . broader. There were still too many . . . all were bigger than myself . . ."

Even Gimli put aside his cup of ale in favour of the tale, as did Legolas who sat on his left. There was a tangible silence as they waited for the Istar to continue. Lost in her own memories Indil did not notice the seconds slip by.

"To be honest my sword skills are a little rusty, so trying to deal with all ten or nine of the beasts was not something I wished to initiate. I knew I had to distract them so that I could deal with a few at a time. So as they were scrambling up the hill toward me I drew my sword, using some power I was able to create some fire to split the group . . . not too challenging but enough to keep six occupied while I dealt with three . . . I cannot truly remember how long it lasted. . ."

Aragorn stared in astonishment, to try and match three of these creatures by herself . . . this woman must have some talent with a blade. Legolas was thinking the very same thing . . . she seemed so slight and fragile. Then again the force with which he had been thrown back in his chair was not one he was likely to forget.

"It was nightfall before it was finally over . . . I was so tired. The draining of power and stamina was extremely demanding. Not to mention I had not come out unscathed. . . I was not untouchable."

"The reason why we did not see you until your second day here?"

Indil smiled at the question, yes Boromir was definitely his fathers' son.

"Honestly? Then it was my third day."

Boromir gaped at the answer. Three days? How badly had Indil been injured? Indil recognised the look of accusation in Boromirs' eyes. The rest of the table seemed equally surprised.

"I did not think my story would attract this many listeners."

Indil had to smile at the embarrassment evident on the faces of the Fellowship.

"Yes, it was not until my third day that I was allowed to present myself. Minor injuries but numerous. My recovery would not have been so long normally but the fact that I was drained physically as well as magically did not help."

She sighed, the journey to Rivendell had been one of those rare times in which she did not pause to enjoy the beauty around her nor the thrill of the open plain. The tiredness was constant . . . I still think I passed out for some time . . .

"It is not often that I speak compliments of others lass, be aware of that. You must be a little more that just passable with a blade to fend off three Uruk-hai!" voiced Gimli, in the gruff manner that is associated with dwarves.

"I thank you, Master Gimli. I am slower than what I once was but hopefully that shall return with practice and time." Replied Indil, smilingly.

"Indeed Master Dwarf you should see Indil when she wields an axe. A sight to behold, especially when she is irritated."

Gandalf entered the room fully from behind the table. He had heard the whole tale from Indil herself when she had arrived . . . slumped half dead over that loyal mounts' back. He had never know Indil to be wary of any creature but this new breed frightened her. Hearing her now recount the tale with a little of her old confidence back was encouraging . . . but she was still not fully recovered.

"I do believe that was because a certain bothersome wizard decided to meddle in some of my affairs? . . . namely my supply box without my permission. How was I supposed to know it was you hunched over in the pitch black of night?" stated Indil, her tone insincere.

"You attacked Gandalf? In the middle of the night?" gasped Frodo.

"Of course. Would you not do the very same thing if you awoke to rustling noises and a dark figure in the corner? It is all right . . . he is still standing here with us today. Most of him intact . . ."

"That faded away and I will thank you not to bring up the subject again." Huffed Gandalf.

"If I am not mistaken it was you who brought the whole incident up?" replied Indil.

"Tell us about Gandalfs' injury!" piped Pippin.

"So it was my dear so it was. Well that was my fault entirely." Answered Gandalf, ignoring the Hobbit at the opposite end of the table.

"Do not worry I had forgotten all about it."

"Wait a moment, Indil what did you do to Gandalf?" questioned Merry, joining in his cousins' bouncing in his seat.

"Then I trust all is forgiven?" continued Gandalf as if nothing were amiss.

"Certainly, all was forgiven many years ago."

"Why will you not answer us?" chorused the Hobbit cousins.

Boromir could not be sure but he thought he saw Indil hide a grin momentarily.

"So you will not mention that unfortunate event?" probed Gandalf hopefully.

"Of course not, Gandalf. What is there without trust?"

"You cannot mention an incident like that and then refuse to tell us the full story!!" howled Pippin.

"That is not fair!" cried Merry in agreement.

By this time the whole table was laughing at the antics of the wizard and Indil. Forgotten was the tale of her escape and momentarily the gloom surrounding the Fellowship was lifted.

"Would you care to join me for a walk in the gardens?" inquired Gandalf, his eyes twinkling with delight at the frustration evident on the young hobbits' faces.

"That would be lovely." Agreed Indil, rising from her seat to join him.

Before she could move Boromir tugged on her sleeve gently. Bending down so that she could only hear he whispered.

"What exactly did you do?"

Indil straightened up with a smile on her face. It seems it was not only the hobbits' who had a curious nature.

"You will find out later." She replied grinning secretively.

"What!!" yowled Pippin.

Leaping from his seat he made to follow Indil but by the time he had disentangled himself from his napkin and the tablecloth she had disappeared. In her wake Indil left the Fellowship full of questions but in good spirits. Well for the most part . . . Pippin was not the only one who found himself frustrated at the antics of Indil. He was more concerned however with her interaction with the Gondorian lord rather than a wizard.


	13. Chapter 13

**Authors' note**: Hi all! This chapter has changed so many times it really had my head spinning. Just a warning that there are changes in the point of view so I used lines to make this more clear and less confusing. Apologies in advance if you find it headwrecking but I thought it would be interesting to shake it up a bit :) Thanks again to my reviewers;

_JamieT19_: Just a public statement it should only be about one or two more chapters before everything splinters as such. . . . or three. . . Thanks for the detail I really enjoy pouring over reviews and then returning to the story with those suggestions in mind, _Divinesubjugation_: Once again thank you for reviewing, the future for Indil and the Fellowship shall be interesting and finally to _Nichole_: newbie on the block, thank you for taking the time to review.

So on with the story. . . .

* * *

Once Pippin had regained his seat the meal continued much in the same way as it had before Lady Indil and Gandalf left.

The Hobbits chatted merrily amongst themselves while mocking Pippin for his graceful departure from the table. Heads bowed together the elven prince and ranger resumed the serious discussion that had preoccupied them, sharing significant looks as they spoke in hushed tones. Boromir did not care much since it was impossible to hear with the Hobbits separating himself and Gimli from the pair, even if they had wanted to, conversation would have been impossible. Still it struck him as being rude when they held these private talks at the table in company.

* * *

"Elves and their ways" huffed Gimli, sitting opposite to Boromir, "cannot tell myself why everyone thinks of them as being courteous."

"Quite, master dwarf." Replied Boromir, wrenching his attention from the enigmatic pair.

As if realising they were being watched prince Legolas turned more fully in his seat to face Aragorn. Not so much as to be blatant but enough for both the Gondorian and dwarf to know that their observation was not welcome.

"Ignorant princeling."

"I would not mind so much if they were not in company, but to shun companions at a common meal ," Boromir shook his head ". . . In any case, master dwarf how fare your people and the men of Dale?"

Gimli, thankful for some distraction, related the worsening situation that continued to prevail in his homeland.

". . . and not just farm matters, trade is nearly a thing of the past. Fewer and fewer merchants pass through the Dale and Rohan has more than enough trouble to be dealing with . . ."

"I heard that the land ruled by King Theoden has suffered greatly since the arrival of one Grima Wormtongue?"

"Aye lad, that is the truth of it. No wonder, yon King Theoden has lost his control an' some say his mind."

Boromir could not help but be saddened at the thought of Eorls' people living in such dire conditions. What use would it be when Gondor, battling for its' very survival, could not look to the coming of the rohirrim. . . . then again what had Gondor done for Rohan? The accusations made by Legolas and Aragorn rang through his mind ominously . . . they had been disparaging of his homeland. What would they know? What could they know of the suffering in Gondor? The fear? Each new dawn brought with it more sorrow and death. What did the people of Rohan think? Do they believe we have forgotten them in these dark times?

"I cannot say verily whether Gondor could have prevented that. . . but I am truly sorry. . . for long have our peoples held each other in friendship and trust. I dare not think what the horse lords make of Gondor in these dark times. . ."

"Ah lad. Everyone has their own troubles to be dealing with . . . people are not as close as they once were. . ."

Boromir smiled grimly at the dwarf for his attempt to console him. Still he could not push from his mind the idea that he could have done more . . . his father could have done more. . .

"What about Gondor? How does the white city fare?"

Almost wishing the dwarf had not asked him anything Boromir broke some bread in his hands.

"Much the same master dwarf, much the same. The city still stands as bright as ever it was in my childhood but now the shadows of Mordor have grown longer. There is a despondency that was once not there . . . life goes on as normal, or as normal as can be expected but it is still not the same. Happily we have regained Osgiliath though it is little more than a ruin. Briefly I glimpsed what Gondor once was . . . a mighty Kingdom of men . . . It was only when I faced Mordor once more that the vision faded."

Gimli nodded in sympathy. Every race longed for the days of glory, the times in which each had its' jewels and beauty. All or most has faded now . . . lost in the tales of ancient splendour.

"Aye that is the truth if ever I heard it. What great dwarven realms remain? . . . my cousin Balin set out not too long ago with a company of dwarves to retake Moria. We have not heard from him in a while but I hope that in the future Moria will be open for trade as it once was. The magnificence of the darrowdelf for all to see and admire . . . lest it fade into legend and myth."

Boromir recognised the set of despair in Gimli's shoulders. He had not had much experience of dwarves but they were renown for their pride . . . undeniably he had become more familiar with the dwarf during his time at Rivendell but now he realised how much more he did not know of his companion.

"Come these are mournful tales of woe and pity! Let us look to the future and hope!" stated Boromir, in a tone of strength that he did not fully trust himself.

"Aye lad," grinned Gimli, beneath his beard. "what use is there in the past? All that matters is what lies ahead of us."

* * *

"I do not like it Aragorn."

The ranger studied his friend grimly from his seat. Legolas recognised that look. . . it was the same one that Aragorn wore when he were considering an unlikely opportunity when hunting.

"Legolas I do not understand why it troubles you so. What does it matter if Boromir and Indil spend time in each others company?"

Despite his words Aragorn knew exactly why it troubled Legolas but it was never wise to confront an elf on such matters . . . his years in Rivendell had taught him that.

"You saw how the Gondorian reacted to the ring at the council! Aragorn we leave in little more than a week . . . he is a liability. If the Lady Indil should become attached to the man what might she do to protect him? You know that Gandalf places great confidence in her. . ."

"My friend, it is natural for Boromir to attach himself to those who are most like his kind. He is surrounded by elves here. . . and you have heard of his father, Denethor? A suspicious man at best. Look he talks to Gimli and the Hobbits as well. The only reason he does not approach me is due to my ancestry."

Legolas could see the logic in his arguments but he still felt that Aragorn should pay more heed to the developing friendship between the two.

"I still think it is unwise not to watch them . . ."

"Legolas, it will be of no good. As you said yourself we leave in a week after that there is nothing that Indil can possibly do to protect Boromir."

"You are right I suppose."

Aragorn smiled at his elven companion. The woodland elf had always been the most cautious of his friends, though Halbarad might come close.

"Come I wish to sharpen my archery skills. They have become dull as of late with all this waiting."

Glancing up at Aragorn the elf shook his head.

"Nay I think I shall pay the library a visit. I have not talked with Erestor in quite some time. Is shall meet you on the archery fields later on."

"Very well." Replied Aragorn, with a puzzled expression on his face.

Watching his friend go Legolas knew that he would have to look elsewhere for help. Aragorn might not see the importance of this but I cannot let it endanger the quest. Pushing himself from his chair Legolas strode from the room without looking back.

* * *

"What do you make of that?" muttered Gimli darkly, scrutinising the prince as he left the room.

Boromirs' frown was all the answer he needed. The ranger and elf seem to be fairly close, no use in looking for friendship there.

"I am not sure Gimli."

Crossing his arms, Gimli leaned on the table conspiratorially.

"Listen here laddie. I see no niceties in the behaviour of those two. The ranger I do not like and the elf. . . ."

Twisting his mouth into a grimace beneath his beard Gimli leaned still further in Boromirs' direction.

"Exceptin' for the present company," Gimli nodded in the busy Hobbits direction, "we are on our own. The wizard is great friends with the northern man so I count him as one of them. Gandalf always seemed to blow with the fairest winds. Way I see it we have to stick together if we are goin' to get anything done."

Boromir stared at the table. The dwarf was right . . . he was on his own. Aragorn scorned him, the elf followed suit and Gandalf . . . he had always preferred his brother.

"Fair enough master Gimli. We are in this together."

Raising his eyes to the dwarf Boromir matched his stare. Holding out his hand he waited. Gimli gripped it without a moments hesitation.

"I think we have just entered into a pact lad, where I come from that stands no matter what."

Boromir nodded seriously, hardening his grip for a moment before releasing the dwarfs' hand.

"Now would you care to join me? I think I will see what state my horse is in. He might need new shoes if he is to be used as a pack animal."

"Aye, why not. Nothin' else to do around here but sing or read."

* * *

Once the man and dwarf had left the Hobbits stared at each other.

"Can you believe it? Nobody trusts anyone!"

"It has been like that from the very beginning' Master Merry. As my ole gaffer used to say 'Good fences make good neighbours'."

Pippin snorted at Sams' suggestion.

"Good neighbours? More like good enemies! You don't suppose that it will come to close quarters?" he whispered.

When he got no response other than confused looks Pippin continued.

"You know. A duel? A fistfight? Like when old man Proudfoots' had one to many and starts to goad Toby Cotton. Last year Toby lost his senses and struck Proudfoot. No more arguments."

"Ahhh Pip! They could not do that in Rivendell. I don't think that Lord Elrond would be too happy about that do you?"

Frodo had remained silent throughout this exchange of ideas. He too had been listening into both conversations.

"Don't be worrying Mister Frodo. Gandalf will sort them lot out to be sure. He won't broke no arguments will Gandalf."

Picking up on Sams' concern Merry and Pippin began chorusing similar thoughts to try and alleviate their fellow hobbits' anxiety.

"How am I to get through all this?" wondered Frodo aloud to no one in particular.

The three remaining Hobbits shared a fleeting looks full of meaning. They could not allow Frodo become too overwhelmed by the whole venture, he was still not fully recovered from his experience on the road to Rivendell.

"I say we forget about it!"

"Quite right Pip. What is the point in worrying? There is nothing us Hobbits can do about it anyway."

"I agree with Master Pippin and Master Merry. Say Mister Frodo why don't we go find Bilbo? He has to finish that tale of Smaug yet and I never tire of hearin' it."

Frodo cracked a smile in Sams' direction. Good old Sam always knew how to take his mind off of things.

"Quite right Sam. Let's go find Bilbo."

* * *

"So are you ready to leave?"

Indils' question broke the deepening silence that had grown between the two Istari ever since they had entered the gardens.

"Yes. I have just come from a meeting with Lord Elrond about our chosen course and we have come to a loose agreement of what it will be."

"Really?" replied Indil, surprised that Gandalf had decided on a route at all since it was more characteristic of him to wait and see where he would go.

Gandalf did little more than raise an eyebrow at her incredulous tone.

"Yes, really."

Yet again the silence spread between the pair. Indil knew he was waiting for her to ask so she played along.

"Well would you care to enlighten me?"

Smiling briefly Gandalf stopped momentarily as if to admire the flourishing blossoms. Then without any warning he moved off, forcing Indil to follow him to a stone bench. The same one on which she had spoken with Aragorn. Settling himself on it Gandalf waited until Indil was seated.

" Both of us know that now the nine have knowledge of Frodos' whereabouts we can be certain that Sauron and Saruman will have their spies waiting scouring every possible route. Lord Elrond and myself discussed the matter and have come to the conclusion that the Redhorn Pass into the Dimrill Dale is the best course to take. On from there I would hope to use the Silverlode and so come to the Golden wood, realm of Galadriel. It is the one way the Fellowship might be granted some favour and remain hidden. I seem to remember that you once visited the fair Lothlorien?"

Indil smiled at Gandalfs' carefully worded question. Indeed she had visited the secret woods before but had not received a warm reception from its warden.

"No matter. Then the Great River would allow us to approach Mordor from the north. Though of course we would have to travel by foot from the Falls of Rauros through the Dead Marshes."

Indil considered the proposed route. It was nearly the exact same as the one she had debated with Legolas a few days earlier. Gandalf was really allowing for the fact that Saruman knew they had the ring.

"It is a fair course. I could not have chosen better myself. You will need warm clothing for the mountain passes and boats . . ."

"Ahh yes. Lord Elrond has the seamstresses working on our clothing at this very moment. As for boats I am positive that the Galadrim will give us two of their own if not three. That is if I ask the marchwarden politely." Answered Gandalf, smiling to himself.

"Yes. The marchwarden is all politeness." Grimaced Indil.

The sun was now in the western half of the sky and it would not be long until its' descent would begin. Sensing that the time had come to return to the room Indil turned to her companion.

"By any chance were you in contact with Radagast?"

This time it was Gandalfs' turn to frown while considering a question.

"No. I am afraid that with all this business of the nine and Frodo I had forgotten to talk to him. Though. . . yes. . I do believe that Lord Elrond sent a messenger to Rhosgobel to summon him."

"I think I will have a word with Lord Elrond and see if he has had any response. He should have if he sent that messenger before the council."

"Do that. We will need all the help we can get . . . I can only hope that Saruman has not contacted Radagast. I do not think he would bother. . . he always considered him a fool. . ."

"We cannot know for sure. Saruman might find many uses for Radagast. Least of all his affinity for animals. I shall speak with you later."

Nodding thoughtfully Gandalf pulled out his pipe and started filling it with tobacco. Indil left him to his thoughts.

The Hobbits might not have wandered far, hopefully everyone will remember we have not finished our discussion.

Standing in the corridor she looked left then right. More than likely they would still be in the Great Hall. Walking along the hallway Indil contemplated their newest problem. Would Saruman bother Radagast? He had often referred to him as Radagast the Fool but would that stop him.

"Radagast is by far the most connected with nature of our order. He can communicate with animals in such a way that the elves have often remarked upon it." Indil wondered to herself.

So caught up in her own thoughts she did not see Legolas when he rounded the corner. With a small surprised cry she managed to grab his arm to stop her from falling. He too seemed just as surprised clutching her wrist tightly.

"My apologies Lady." Mumbled Legolas, helping Indil regain her balance.

"Do not trouble yourself Prince Legolas, I am afraid I was lost in my own mind just now and was not paying attention to where I was going." Replied Indil sincerely while straightening her cloak.

"I tend to do that quite often. I was just looking for the Hobbits so that we could return to the meeting room. Have you seen them?"

"They were in the Great Hall not long ago. I myself am on my way to the archery fields from the Library. I am to meet Aragorn there. Will I pass on the message to return to the room?"

"That would save me a lot of walking. Thank you, your highness."

"Please. Use my given name. It is strange for you to be calling me your highness when the Fellowship are together. I do not wish to seem as if I am above them." Stated Legolas solemnly.

"Of course, Legolas." Replied Indil earnestly.

Nodding briefly the Elf turned and continued in the direction he had been heading in.

Indil could not help but stare after him dubiously. That elf is very strange. Shaking herself she set off once again in search of four Hobbits.


	14. Chapter 14

**Authors Note**: Hi all I am so sorry about the delay regarding this chapter. It has literally been saved on my computer hard drive for the past month but I just never got round to uploading it. Teaching practice has finished and I'm back to college monday so I will have plenty of time to write and continue on with this story. Please let there be no doubt about my commitment to writing a full and complete story. Hopefully I haven't become too rusty over my absence!Lol Thanks for the reviews as always they are, and I mean it, appreciated. Enjoy!!

* * *

Indil closed the door to the Great Hall unnoticed by the small group seated in the corner. Silently she stood observing them laugh merrily amongst each other before deigning to move closer.

"Just as well that I had something to eat . . . the tale of Smaug always leaves me with a huge appetite!"

"My favourite tale Master Bilbo and make no mistake about it . . ."

Frodo sat beside his Uncle smiling at the young gardener.

"You always say that Sam."

"Of course I do Mister Frodo lest Master Bilbo forgets!"

"I doubt Bilbo ever forgets a compliment!" laughed Pippin.

"I have to agree with Sam. The tale of Smaug happens to be a favourite of mine as well." Grinned Indil, winking at the blushing Hobbit.

"Lady Indil, as always it is a pleasure to see you. You have been absent from the halls of Rivendell for far too long."

Indil moved to help the elderly hobbit from his chair.

"And I never leave without hearing one of your tales Master Hobbit. Shall you be reciting tonight in the Hall of Fire. . . . .or need I ask?"

"I shall and would be glad if you would honour me with your presence. There shall be a new tale for tonight in your honour."

"You always knew how to flatter me Master Bilbo. Of course I shall be present, a new tale from a storyteller such as yourself is not one to be missed!"

The stooped hobbit smiled at Indil, giving her hand a firm squeeze before gripping his knot riddled walking stick.

"Then I shall have to prepare. Gildor should be in the Hall of Fire. I wonder what criticism he will level at me this time . . . ." muttered Bilbo distractedly as he left.

The remaining four hobbits and Istar stood quietly, each in their own way admiring the old hobbits' tenacity.

"Well I suppose we should return to the meeting." Stated Indil hesitantly not wanting to break the peaceful mood that had stolen over the group.

"Right you are Lady Indil. Do the others know we are reconvening?"

"Prince Leg . . . . Legolas has just gone to inform Aragorn. I myself have not encountered Boromir or Gimli. Do you happen to know where they might be Pippin?"

Pippins' face became a picture of concentration as he searched for an answer.

"They said they would go to the stables to see if Lord Boromirs' horse was in good order." Provided Merry after a while.

"Thank you Merry. I shall meet you all after I have found Gimli and Boromir."

Nodding her head Indil walked out of the hall and in the direction of the stables, the strains of an argument growing faint behind her.

"Merry she asked me!"

"You were taking too long Pip. I do not see why you are so angry!"

Indil made it to the stables in good time with few elves to slow her progress. Thankfully Boromir and Gimli had not moved off, instead they stood admiring a coal black stallion in the stable opposite to Boromirs' mount.

"A fine animal. . . . it must be of Rohirrim stock."

Boromir nodded his head in agreement.

The stallion stood at least sixteen hands high with a broad chest and muscled flanks. It had, by the look of it, war horse blood and yet its' legs were too slim, more akin to that of a racing horse.

"Oh Tintreach is much more than just a horse of the Rohirrim Master Gimli."

The man and dwarve jumped slightly at the voice behind them.

"He was a gift from some elven friends for a service I provided. Apparently Tintreach is not only of Rohirrim heritage but also of an elven line as well."

Indil stepped into the stable beside the mighty beast, almost dwarfed by its' height. Running her hands lovingly along its neck and back she spoke to it softly in a tongue neither dwarf or man could understand.

"He has the body of a war horse but his legs are that of a racer."

Indil smiled at Boromirs' confusion.

"Quite. While Tintreachs' father was a Rohirric war horse his mother was of an elven line favoured for the lightness of step and graceful gait. He is one of a kind and loyal to no end."

Boromir swore the horse was looking at him as if to assess whether he was of any importance or not. Its brown eyes examining both man and dwarf where they stood.

"In any case I believe we have a meeting to return to?"

Indil smiled slightly surprised at the dwarfs' abrupt statement.

"Quite right master Gimli. How did you know?"

"Ways and means lass, ways and means. What else would you be coming down looking for myself and Lord Boromir here?"

"To enjoy your delightful company master dwarf?" grinned Indil, enjoying the bout of logic.

Boromir scoffed loudly.

"Our company indeed. Well I dare say we have some impatient companions awaiting us . . ."

The dwarf and man had reached the stable entrance before they noticed the Istar had not followed.

"Are you going to join us Lady Indil?" inquired Boromir, breaking the contemplative stare that dominated the lady in questions' face.

"I will join you presently. I think I shall just ensure that Tintreach has all he requires."

"Come along lad ye can never tell with these wizard types." Asserted Gimli shaking his head as he moved off.

Boromir hesitated for but a moment until Indil smiled reassuringly at him. Satisfied he glanced back fleetingly before exiting the stables.

Indil faltered slightly before she moved back to Tintreachs' stable. Picking up a brush left to one side she began rubbing the stallion down. Working from his neck to shoulders she quietened the brush strokes along his forelocks and tried to focus on every sound she could hear . . . . There it was . . . . barely noticeable but there. Someone was watching her, someone. . . . .it had to be an elf, no dwarf or hobbit could remain that quiet. No she would have detected them already. Even a hardened ranger would find it difficult to soften their breathing to that level. It could only be an elf.

Indil continued brushing down her stallion talking to it gently as if she were by herself, taking as much time as she dared without raising the suspicions of her mysterious guardian. When she had finished she left the stables and Tintreach behind for the meeting room.

Again the faint scuffing of elven leather reverberated subtly, virtually hidden by the sounds of others working behind the wooden doors of Rivendell. This sound was distinct, purposeful. Every time Indil stopped briefly to greet a passing elf the sound would stop immediately.

"Why would and elf be following me?" mused Indil quietly as the meeting room loomed ever closer.

Trying to appear as casual as possible Indil reached for the handle of the door risking a glance over one shoulder before she entered. A flash of a brown cloak was all she managed to glimpse before she closed the door.

"Glad to see you could make it lass." Boomed Gimli.

"I apologise master dwarf and to all seated in this room. I am afraid Tintreach was not behaving and so I had to have a talk with a stable hand. It took longer than I expected." Replied Indil smoothly allowing the right amount of concern seep into her voice.

"No matter. Let's get this over and done with."

Indil strode to the top of the table ignoring the looks of surprise that flitted across the faces of her companions. Facing the company she drew in a deep breath before beginning.

"We cannot change what is. We can only effect what might be. So I suggest that we accept our situation and our position, do our best with what we have and go about reducing the advantages our enemy has over us."

Nodding in silent agreement the Fellowship looked about the table with new resolve.

"I have pointed out what I can of our enemy. Now I will turn my eye to this Fellowship."

The silence deepened suddenly, the hobbits looked fearful, Legolas stern, Aragorn thoughtful, Gimli stubborn and Boromir anxious. It was ironic how each persons idiosyncrasies became abundantly clear under stress.

The pulling of a shirt sleeve, a tightening of the muscles around the eyes and the occasional wringing of hands all belied the true feelings of the group despite their efforts to remain as outwardly calm as possible.

"Aragorn, you are a master huntsman, chieftain of the Dunedain. Your skill and experience in battle will be crucial. Every trick you know of to keep this Fellowship concealed will be called upon. Let the past be the past, forget your doubts; they cripple you."

Grimacing slightly Aragorn nodded, his fists locked before him in thought.

"Legolas, you are the only elven representative. Your years of war and knowledge will be of great benefit. You shall be key in negotiating the Fellowships' way through elven territory. Your long range capabilities invaluable. To you I say this; leave old rivalries aside. They do not matter, what matters is the fate of this company."

The elven prince sat ramrod straight in his chair, inclined his head tersely in Indil's direction.

"Gimli, strength and steadfastness are your contributions to this quest. It takes a lot for a dwarf to lose hope, do not let worries of the future weigh you down. Likewise leave old rivalries behind, they do nothing for your cause. This Fellowship needs a rock to lean on, you are it."

Gimli grunted in what Indil presumed was an affirmative answer. Turning to Boromir she had to pause before beginning.

"Boromir, you have seen the evil that is facing us. You have fought it, you have defeated it. Now everything relies on secrecy. Your bravery is no secret however and this company shall need whatever reserves of energy you have. Step out from your fathers' shadow and into your own destiny, make of it what you will. Remember you are Gondor wherever you may go."

The Gondorian shifted slightly in his seat, eyes fixed on the figure at the head of the table. Turning her eyes on the hobbits Indil had to smile at the nervousness etched on their faces.

"My dear Hobbits, far and long have I travelled but hobbits never cease to amaze me. The measure of most elves, dwarves and men is easily taken but the measure of your kind is . . . impossible to shape or describe. Merry, Pippin though you are the light hearted souls of this group you hide your other talents quite well. Your loyalty, courage and quick thinking will stand to you in the future."

Pippin and Merry beamed delightedly at Indil, giving each other congratulatory looks from the corners of their eyes.

"However you must always remember the gravity of this task and recognise when you need to be alert and attentive. Sam I could not find a worthier hobbit to travel on this quest if I took years to comb the Shire for your mettle. Determined and resourceful you shall never lead anyone wrong. Frodo here is someone to rely on when all else fails."

Both Hobbits accepted the Istars' words quietly sharing a brief look to confirm the other was taking in what was being said.

"Frodo I do not need to go into your character since your actions speak clearly to all who have met you. Brave, considerate and a true soul you need no advice from me."

Something in the Hobbits' eyes spoke to Indil of his apprehension. She could sense his fear, see it in his posture, read it in the constant checking of his coat pocket. The darkness that seeped from therein a gentle reminder to Indil of all that lay ahead.

"Remember my friends fate is too grand a thing to dwell upon. It has more twists and turns than a good Shire path, we cannot predict where it will lead to but can only put one foot in front of the other and face what may come; good or bad. I apologise for the brevity of these meetings but we did not have as much time as I would have liked. Then again you never have enough time when nothing of consequence is coming and too little of it when you have more than you can deal with."

Laughing silently to herself Indil drew her cloak about her as she stood making her lofty frame appear even taller. Gazing about the room she emblazened the memory into her mind.

"I had wished to talk of Saruman himself but we have no time instead I give you this advice; disregard any sweet words that drip from that black tongue of his. They are worthless and Saruman excels at deception. Gandalf has informed me that the company shall be leaving in two days, three at the very most. Until then I suggest you prepare yourselves be it lessons in weaponry, supplies for the road ahead or messages for those you leave behind."

The weight of Indils' statement added to the bleak atmosphere that suffused the chamber. Slowly the company rose from their seats to return to their quarters before dinner. The Hobbits were the last of the group, as if leaving the room would truly signal the beginnings of hard times ahead. When they finally did leave Indil noticed an unusual absence.

"Boromir did not wait, he has too much on his mind." Sighed Indil. "Perhaps I should not have spoken to each separately but I have no time to speak alone with each of them."

The fire crackled and spit throwing embers from the hearth and onto the rug. Kneading her temples before the fire Indil remained standing as she considered each and every aspect of the task ahead. Only one nagged at her conscience, Radagast. The one factor she could not place, predict or consider and it annoyed her to no end. Lifting her hands from her face Indil allowed the warmth of the fire to cover her skin and ease the tension that writhed below the surface.

"Radagast must be found."

Ignoring the tiredness seeping through her limbs Indils strode from the room intent on finding the Lord of Rivendell.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note:** Hi Folks. . . . I know it has been unforgiveable but this year. . . . I have no internet at home. Let it soak in for a moment. Therefore I truly apologise for my tardiness. Really bad form. This story is still alive and kicking so don't worry. Hope you enjoy the next chappie. . . thanks to all who reviewed I love to read your comments and see what you think!

* * *

"There has been no word from Radagast."

The statement rang solemnly through the silent room.

"Someone must know where he is! He cannot have just disappeared into the depths of Mirkwood never to return!"

"Lord Elrond is right Indil. I myself have tried to locate our friend to no end, it worries me greatly that Radagast is absent but we must concentrate on the Fellowship."

Indil stood in one fluid movement from her chair.

"Don't you see? I fear the worst has happened and Radagast has either been tricked by Saruman or killed."

Gandalf raised his hand placatingly in front of the stressed Istar.

"Think Indil, why would Saruman after ignoring Radagast for hundreds of years now suddenly consider him a threat? He dismissed Radagast as if he was a worthless rock in the soil, useless and bland."

Kneading her temples Indil looked at the two lords both seated before the fire.

"Just because Saruman used to consider him a fool does not mean he still holds to that belief! You and I both know the power and influence Radagast yields amongst the animals of this world. If Saruman has half a brain he would realise that such talents could be very useful in keeping an eye on those he wants out of his way. Who would spare a second glance at a small bird or hare? None."

Lord Elrond glanced meaningfully at Gandalf before walking to Indils' side.

"Indil have you been sleeping well?" he murmured, leading her to her former seat.

"No, not as well as I should like. Why do you ask?" replied Indil resignedly.

"I can tell, your movements are agitated . . . more so than usual; you constantly rub at your eyes; your shoulders are stooped. Indil it does not take a centuries old healer to see you are overtired."

Lowering into the chair provided Elrond moved to one side to pour some wine into her empty glass. Indil rested her brow in the palms of her hands taking comfort in the momentary respite from holding her head up. Over her bowed head the two lords shared a worried look.

"Indil I think you are over thinking the problem. Clever as he is Saruman was always stubborn and slow to change that which he believed to be true. Radagast has always been the least social of our order, the recluse . . . even the elves of Mirkwood found it hard to draw him into conversation."

Staring distractedly into the darkness of her closed palms Indil let Gandalfs' words roll through her mind. Maybe she was complicating something that was in truth very simple.

"Besides do not forget Radagasts' fondness for herbs and medicines. I recall some thirty years ago he disappeared into Mirkwood for a month after which all he had done was fill six satchels with bark scrapings."

The group smiled at the remembered incident. Once again each withdrew into their own memories leaving the room hushed and quiet.

Indil still could not let the issue drop; every time she dismissed it another aspect would re-emerge and make her look more closely at the whole situation.

"Nevertheless I think it would be foolish to believe that Radagast has just disappeared. Not even he would leave all his things behind. His hooded cloak . . . for goodness sake his hooded cloak. That thing was never off his back, Gandalf. Why leave it then when you are about to embark on a journey? The cupboards were undisturbed, no crockery was missing, not even a pot."

Again Elrond glanced at the grey clad Istar over Indils' shoulder. Acknowledging the Elf Lords' concern Gandalf pulled his chair forward until he sat almost directly in front of Indil. Slowly he took each of her hands in his own, refusing to let her look anywhere else other than into his eyes.

"We are all worried for Radagast; we are not trying to dismiss what you are saying Indil but right now we have more pressing concerns. Yes Radagasts' things were still in his home in Rhosgobel, yes it was unusual but not so unusual as to constitute a full out search."

Indil looked at her hands within Gandalfs' grip. After a breath, having mustering all the belief she could, she raised her eyes to his.

"There is something wrong. I know you think it is from lack of sleep, I know you think I am paranoid. . . .do not deny it."

"We both know the horrors you witnessed. . . . the pain you suffered. It would be ignorant of me indeed if I did not consider it perhaps part of why you are so convinced that Radagast is in trouble. What's more you have not been sleeping well, wandering the gardens late at night. You supposed we did not notice your nightly strolls?"

Ripping her hands from his grasp Indil leaped from her chair, striding past Elrond she gripped the stone sill relishing the roughness of the stone beneath.

"Lady Indil perhaps you . . ."

"What Lord Elrond? Perhaps I should lie down? Close my eyes for a while? Allow myself to recreate in my mind the darkness . . . the torture . . . the blood?"

Turning her back on the window she faced the Elf Lord and Istar.

"Please do not insult my intelligence. . . I realise that what happened effects me . . . influences my decisions . . . there is no escaping that. I am not refuting it but please do not pretend to accept my ideas and while my back is turned share looks of incredulity and disbelief! I asked for this meeting because I am concerned.

I know I am overtired, I know that my experiences have left me more paranoid than before but do not ignore me as Saruman ignored Radagast only to realise too late that I had something meaningful to say!

Gandalf, what did you first think when my . . . when my report on the black gate did not arrive? What did you think?"

"Do not dare to compare that situation with this!" bellowed Gandalf, rising to his full height.

"Why not? Is it not the same? Did you not think I had just been delayed? Did not every last person not think I was just held back?"

"Indil during those times your secrecy was paramount. For anyone of us to march into Mordor to try to reclaim you and then realise you were perfectly fine would have had huge consequences. . . . . I thought we had been through this. . ." finished Gandalf, almost whispering.

Realising her mistake Indil embraced Gandalf tightly.

"We did, we did and you know I forgive you . . . you know that."

Indil drew back to look her friend in the eyes.

"You also know that while everyone thought I was fine I was actually locked in the deepest dungeons of Barad-Dur. I fear the same will happen to Radagast if we just let this incident pass without further investigation."

Sighing deeply Gandalf turned from Indil and picked up his goblet. Drowning it of its contents he returned it to the table.

"I cannot leave Frodo."

Indil smiled at her friend.

"Sometimes I think you forget you are not the only Istar in the whole of Arda. I do not expect you to go, you must lead the Fellowship. I on the other hand have no such obligations. . ."

"Are you sure you wish to venture into these waters again, Lady Indil?" inquired Lord Elrond, who had silently been watching the pair from his seat.

Staring distractedly at the wall Indil took a few moments to reply.

"There is no escaping the coming tide, there is no way of stopping it. We must all play whatever part is set out for us however small or large."

Turning to face the seated Elf Lord Indil continued.

"I was once held by the Dark Lord. I have seen the night with no dawn, felt the cold with no chill, the heat with no warmth. There is little that would frighten me now . . . little that could compare. I will see this to the end, the bitter end."

Gandalf stood proudly next to the table. For a moment he was reminded of Indil as she had once been; hopeful, strong and unblemished. With this new image however there came a maturity that had developed over the years, a knowing look in the eyes, a wizening in the face. This was not the innocent Indil of years gone by but a new creation out of the ashes of the old.

"In that case I think we should all raise our goblets to the success of your mission. To find Radagast the Brown and to know of his fate, whatever the outcome." Stated Elrond grandly, lifting his own glass in unison with the two very different Istari before him.

* * *

Boromir stared out on the open courtyard. It looked so peaceful and calm; yet in two days time he would leave this place. What lay ahead not only inspired the deepest feelings of longing, to see Gondor again, but also of fear.

Strolling alongside the gardens he was reminded of his mother. How she had loved her gardens, in full bloom or in the dead of winter. Nothing so grand as those that blossom here in Rivendell but still just as precious to those who nurtured them. What would she have made of all this? Faramir off in some remote wilderness, her scholar traipsing around with a bow and arrow. Myself in a foreign elven kingdom about to embark on a journey that would ultimately end in the darkest corner of all Arda, if all went well. He smiled at the thought, she had bee so protective of them . . .

The echoing sound of a lone pair of feet shook him from his reverie. Round a corner swept Indil, a tall and solitary figure in the moonlight. Startled slightly at her sudden appearance Boromir found he could not at first answer her question.

"Pardon, my lady. My thoughts were elsewhere . . ."

Indil smiled at the Gondorian. The sight of her with nought but a cloak over her nightdress and boots on her feet had left him undeniably shaken.

"It is quite alright Boromir. I had just inquired as to why you are out in the gardens so late?"

In truth she had seen him leave the Hall of Fire earlier and had presumed he had retired to his chamber.

"Ah, well I was quite tired this evening and left the Hall of Fire after Master Bilbo had recited his tale. I was awoken however by some dreams I could not leave behind me so I decided to wander in the fresh air to encourage my body back to sleep again."

Indeed his rather unkempt appearance attested to this reasoning quite clearly.

"I understand. Master Bilbo's' tales can endure for quite a while; not for the weak of heart. I myself was also quite restless and thought a turn in the gardens would make for an improved slumber. What troubles you so this night?"

Boromir smiled gently. Turning once more to the gardens he offered Indil his arm which she took quietly and allowed herself to be led to the stone bench a short distance away. Wrapping her cloak around her tightly Indil sat and turned to listen to the Stewards' sons explanation.

"I am sure it is fairly plain that the fast approaching quest has left me quite restless. Ah I see you mistake my answer for being complete and utter fear?" goaded Boromir.

"No I recognise that fear plays a small part in everyone's nervousness but not so much as to disturb one's sleep." Replied Indil evasively.

Boromir laughed at her answer.

"My Lady you would give any of Gondors' top politicians and statesmen trouble. Indeed you would slip unnoticed into the fold! Yes it is not just fear . . . but also longing. I have been now almost a season away from my homeland, my father and my brother. It is thoughts of them that pull be from my chamber."

Indil smiled at the Gondorians' honesty. Not every man could admit loneliness or longing to see family. Most would shrug it off or blame it on anxiousness to see battle.

"I cannot shake thoughts of my mother either . . . she has been a more frequent purveyor of my dreams lately."

"Finduilas. That is not a name I have spoken aloud for many a year, too many."

Boromir stared in shock at his companion. Indil grinned at his apparent surprise.

"Please Boromir, how could I not have met your mother at least once on my travels? She was an extraordinary woman may I add. Beautiful as well. I see now why you visit the gardens; did she not have some of her own within the very walls of the White City?"

"Yes. She spent almost everyday in those gardens. Books and flowers her two great occupations. Exactly like Faramir . . ."

"Your brother is I take it like your mother?"

Boromir snorted incredulously.

"If you knew Faramir you would not ask such a question. Undoubtedly, I think that is, in part, why my father keeps his distance from Faramir."

Indil let the quiet wash over the man, letting him relax in the cool, comforting breeze. Tentatively she reached out with her senses, pushing past his defences . . . a man much like Boromir stood in a doorway. Older, more stooped but his very likeness. Across from him sat a younger man, younger than Boromir. Before him a rather full book lay on the table. He turned and faced Indil, his eyes were exactly like Finduilas but he still bore a slight resemblance to the older man.

"Your brother is a quiet spirit? Not fond of confrontation but not afraid to engage in it if it is necessary?"

Boromir turned his head slowly. He felt as if he were gazing through a light fog, all his movements seemed slow and sluggish. Indil remained however clear as crystal in his eyes; the fog did not obscure her or her outline.

"Exactly. That is my brother . . . that is Faramir." Extracted Boromir from a heavy mouth.

As soon as it had come the feeling of lethargy vanished. His eyelids still felt as if they would close at any moment.

"I think I shall head back to my chamber." Announced Indil rising from her cold seat.

"I too shall retire. I feel quite tired all of a sudden." Mumbled Boromir, stretching out his tall frame.

Once more they walked through the gardens back to the corridor in which they had met. Strolling down the empty halls they reached their rooms in no time.

"Good night Boromir."

"Sleep well, Lady Indil. I shall see you on the morrow." Answered Boromir before entering his chamber.

Making sure to open and close the door Indil waited a few moments. Pausing fleetingly she discerned the deepening of breathing and lack of movement.

Smiling slightly she moved off towards the Bruinen to see if the river could quieten her thoughts and maybe reveal some of the character that constantly haunted her steps.


	16. Chapter 16

**Authors' Note:** Now I know everyone is going to review cos this is a long, long, long chappie and the precursor to the chapter in which both parties will be leaving Rivendell! YAY I hear you scream. . . well don't get ahead of yourselves. . .my ability to continue on to the next chapter and time in which it will take me to do it all depends on you lot reviewing!!!! MWHAAAAAA HAAAAAA (evil laugh) Please review and thanks to those who did. I really like hearing what you think, critical or not. Thanks a mill and enjoy!!!!

* * *

The journey to the river just outside the main entrance of Rivendell was a peaceful one. The moon seemed to glance off the smooth stone of the entrance arch while illuminating the ground before Indil as she left the paved courtyard behind for the less smooth walkways that bordered the protective stream. The woods beyond were covered in the gentle glow of the heavens outlining each and every individual tree against the black darkness of the lower halves of the Misty Mountains. Cloak billowing around her frame Indil permitted the night chill to sharpen her senses to every brush of cloth against her skin, every crunch of gravel beneath her boots as she picked her way down toward the bridge.

Very few creatures disturbed the otherwise quiet aura of the surrounding area; the silent beat of the owls' wings on the air, the rustling of shrews amongst the now well dried leaves. . . . all added to the serene quality of the night. All was hushed, tranquil in Indils' wake . . . well almost everything. One sound did not quite fit the aural picture forming in the Istars' mind . . . . that restrained placement of soft leather on clay ground. Barely audible but unique in comparison to the other sounds that detailed the soothing atmosphere encompassing Indil. Relaxing into a leisurely gait Indil reluctantly pulled her pace back into check and allowed her mind to race ahead.

'The clearing beyond the rapids should provide an ideal perspective. . . . the water is still enough. . . hopefully I am right in the assumption they are an elf. . .'

Unconsciously she felt the pieces of a plan fall into place as if she had spent days preparing; slotting mentally into a rational structure that intuitively made sense. Visualising the entire process Indil did not stop to admire the view from the Bruinen bridge but continued on seamlessly as if lost in another realm of thought. Her wordless companion proceeded in the same manner as the Istar; oblivious to everything but the object of their concern and interest.

As the distance between the trees widened Indil slowed her pace to that of a crawl alluding to the fact she was preparing to stop. Bending to examine some wildflowers, crocuses in fact, she steadied herself for the next step in her scheme. The roar of the rapids was now indistinct and distant indicating that she was now far enough for the widening of the river to take effect. Picking out the ledge she needed Indil straightened and purposefully sat down angling her body to allow the upper portion of the forest behind her to be visible if she so chose. Tucking her legs beneath her she feigned a curiosity in a tuft of moss peeping out of the ledge while surreptitiously leaning forward to peer into the now still water.

'A few seconds is all I have, now if you are an elf the logical thing is to position yourself in the . . . yes. . .'

Just on the periphery of her view from the moon brilliant water sat a figure nestled in amongst the branches, then as soon as they had appeared they were gone.

Indil smiled victoriously, skimming her fingertips above the glass-like surface. It had been only a brief flash or so of her guardian but it was more than enough for Indil to distinguish the features of one of Mirkwoods' sentinels. One of those that had accompanied Prince Legolas to Rivendell as part of his guard, one whom only responded to the orders of Mirkwoods ruling family, one who had been directed to follow her for some purpose.

'I wonder if they realise I saw them?. . . perhaps. . . what I do not know now will be crystal clear on the morrow. . .'

Resting herself along the bank Indil watched the water flies dart about as if they were hopping on land; surefooted and graceful in their leaps. She could smell the earth beneath her nose, the blades of grass tickling her arm and cheek. . . all the while that distinct sound of soft leather leapt from the lower branches of a forest fir and landed firmly on the ground before dashing back in the general direction of the Last Homely House.

'Yes all shall be revealed or I shall ascertain the truth myself. . .'

_

* * *

__A Few Days Previously. . . ._

_Daeron pushed the doors of the library apart fluidly and slid between them quickly before shutting them quietly behind him. Pausing for a moment the complete lack of noise informed him that he was alone. Moving cautiously he glanced behind each row of bookshelves before allowing himself to relax fully._

_'The curse of a Mirkwood guard. . . to be ever vigilant. . . even in a library.'_

_Striding to the first window at the top of the room he glanced immediately beneath and above the openings to ensure that there was no chance of eavesdropping. Satisfied that each was clear he stopped to enjoy the sight of Rivendells greal library. Master Elrond was a widely known and respected scholar as was Lord Erestor; over the years they had accumulated between them quite a selection of priceless artefacts and accounts. Daeron had visited the library before but then just as now it had been at the behest of Prince Legolas; he had not the time to enjoy the facility himself but retrieve the required text and leave._

_Counting at least fifteen rows of book shelves on either side of the main walkway he noted each section as he passed. . . herbology. . . magics. . . history. . . geography . . . metal working . . . the list was endless._

_Moving among the rows of __books he recognised various tomes of writings that detailed everything. . . from herb lore to warfare to the growth rate of different types of tree. Every manuscript was delicately bound in hard wearing leather to protect it from damage as much as was possible. Leathers of different colours were complimented by varying degrees of decorative symbols, coloured stitching and metal inlays; the preparation of one alone must require the workmanship of several elves. A large book bound in green leather with golden fastening thread grabbed his attention. Leaves of various shapes and sizes were coloured gold and surrounded by exquisite vines that flattered both the leaves and title. Leaning slightly to the side he read the ancient script. . . . the writings of. . . Greenwood . . . the Great. . ._

_'There is one volume that might interest Lord Legolas. . .'_

_As he moved steadily on the writings concerning each elven realm ended with mortal realms of Gondor and Arnor taking precedence as well as those of dwarven origin such as Moria. Slotted quite covertly between the diaries of Ecthelion the second and Thengel of Rohan was a slight volume of plain binding in comparison to those previously observed._

_'Concerning the peoples of Eriador with particular reference to the Halflings of the Shire or Hobbits. . . I wonder does Master Bilbo know of its existence. .'_

_The creaking of doors tore Daeron from his reverie as he cocked his ear to one side. Flattening his back against the end of the shelf he moved slowly; gradually revealing the doors and their entrant to him._

_Stepping out from his place Daeron bowed formally._

_"My Lord, I have come as instructed."_

_Prince Legolas nodded tersely before moving toward the nearest window and briefly scanned the walkway below._

_"No one saw you?"_

_Daeron took the sombre quality to Prince Legolas__ mood in his stride._

_"No my Prince. I was extremely careful as was instructed."_

_Slowly the Prince moved away from the window and allowed his face to relax slightly._

_"My apologies Daeron, I do not doubt your ability. It is without match, which you have proven on several occasions."_

_Daeron smiled in return, this was more comfortable and usual speech for his Prince._

_"No apologies are necessary my Lord. It is clear you have something of importance on your mind or you would not have instructed me thus."_

_Prince Legolas did not answer immediately. Walking the length of a book shelf he locked his hands behind his back and stared inattentively into the distance. Daeron remained motionless and held his tongue; he, better than anyone, recognised when the Prince was trying to organise his thoughts before speaking. After repeating the above pattern for some time Prince Legolas suddenly stopped and focused on the patient Mirkwood sentinel._

_"Daeron I need you to realise the full import of what I am about to ask you to do. It will not be an easy task nor will it seem particularly right of me to request it of you but I assure you right now that secrecy is absolutely necessary."_

_Daeron listened carefully to what the Prince had to say, noting the determination that shone in his leaders eyes._

_"My Lord I would not question any instruction you should give me. I trust that you are doing what you are doing for a purpose and a righteous one at that. I have no doubts in you, my Lord._

_Prince Legolas' shoulders slackened somewhat at Daerons' brief speech, his burden lessened for whatever reason._

_"Thank you for your loyalty. My logic concerning what I am about to ask of you is with regard to the upcoming mission I shall be part of. There is no higher cause. . ."_

_Moving forward Prince Legolas placed his hands on Daerons' shoulders. The added weight of this action forced Daeron to look him straight in the eye._

_"Daeron ever have you been a loyal and faithful servant, you have accompanied me on countless hunts and journeys. I now call upon every ounce of that courage and bravery for this task."_

_Daeron felt the subtle increase of pressure on either side of his neck._

_"I need you to follow the Lady Indil. I need you to follow her night, noon and morn; not a moment are you to allow her to vanish from her sight. I have to know if the Lady Indil meets with Lord Boromir, the Gondorian."_

_Fleetingly the image of a tall, strong man flashed in Daerons' mind._

_"I need to know what they talk of, how they act. . . everything Daeron. I need to know everything. You will report to me daily on the occurrences you have noted and observed."_

_Prince Legolas removed his hold on the ellon before him swiftly disliking the forcefulness with which he had conducted himself. Stepping back he allowed Daeron some time to absorb the information that he had received. There had been shock in Daerons' eyes. . . however brief . . . he knew what he had seen. Daeron did not reply for a while._

_"It will be done my Lord."_

_Prince Legolas looked up from the books he had been assiduously studying in the hope of ignoring the awkwardness of the whole situation he found himself in._

_"Very well. Daeron no one must know of this. . . the other guards, Master Elrond, Lord Aragorn. . . no one you understand. . "_

_"Yes my Lord. Not a soul."_

_"Do you remember the stag Daeron? The large one that every ellon had been trying to capture for weeks. My father wanted that stag more than anything and he assigned you to record its movements if I remember correctly?"_

_Daeron recovered from the change in direction quite quickly._

_"Yes my Lord. I followed the animal for almost three weeks."_

_"Well if I am right then after three weeks you reported to my father who followed you out into the wood. Hours later you both returned with the stag. This is the exact same Daeron."_

_"I understand my Lord, I shall track and follow every movement of the Lady Indil."_

_"Very well Daeron. You start today."_

_Daeron nodded succinctly as he turned toward the entrance to the library._

_'Yes my Lord this is very like that hunt but there is one main difference. That was a stag. . . this is an Istar. . .'_

Legolas, arms crossed tightly, paced anxiously in his chambers. Regretting absently opening the drapes that had protected his rooms from the cold wind he ignored the breeze that was lifting several strands of his hair into his face. Glancing yet again in the direction of the silent doorway he frowned. Where was Daeron?

Moving to the oak desk provided in the corner he pushed the crumpled remains of an attempt at writing to one side. Drawing a fresh sheet from the once orderly stack in front of him Legolas stared intently at the swirling grained patterns. Quill sharpened and freshly dipped the Prince thought for a moment before resting his forearm on the desk. The quill hovered above the page for a while before, slowly, the words began to come. . . Father, my King . . . I have decided . . .

How could explain his actions. . . he knew very well why he had chosen to join the Fellowship. . . it was his duty to represent his people, Aragorn would need all the support he could find and . . . and . . . he needed to. He needed to take his choice in his own hands, needed to decide for himself. . . he could just imagine it now. . . how furious his father would be. . .

Laying the quill to one side Legolas rested his face in his palms; their cool presence, in an odd way, comforting to feel. Closing his eyes he tried to block out the noises of the household in the early morning, the sounds of the already awakened forest. Breathing deeply he tried to relax each muscle from his legs to his shoulders. . . he had not realised how tense he had been. Then again he had been under some stress recently. . . Daeron had not noticed anything suspicious yet but Legolas was sure that something was going on. Why would Lady Indil take such an interest in Boromir? The son of a Steward who trusted few beyond his own walls. What had his father said. . . the apple does not fall far from the tree? He did not trust Boromir. . . whatever protestations Boromir had made he had seen that shine when he had spoken of his dream. . . the glimpse of greed when the ring had been produced. He was a liability, too much of a liability.

The ringing of footsteps sounded loudly throughout the hall interrupting any train of thought that the Prince had been following. Legolas rose speedily to open his door where he was greeted with the sight of a slightly haggard and obviously unsettled Daeron, fist raised to knock on the thick wooden entrance.

"What has happened?" questioned Legolas as Daeron moved past him and into the room. The ellon was so flustered he even forgot to bow before addressing his Prince.

"My Lord I sincerely apologise. . . .I did not realise. . . I should have known, she has never behaved in such a manner. . ."

"Calm yourself Daeron, breathe. . ." muttered Legolas, trying to stop the guard in front of him from rambling.

It was not often that a Mirkwood sentinel lost their senses; the only time Legolas had ever seen such a thing was when the poison of a Mirkwood spider had managed to infiltrate the bloodstream of a severely injured warrior. The ellon had sweated and shook in such a manner that all thought he had gone past the point of any remedy.

Guiding him to his former seat Legolas indicated that Daeron should be quiet for a moment. Checking the balcony and door he moved back to face the now calmer ellon.

"What has happened?" he asked slowly.

Daeron swallowed slightly averting his gaze from the Prince in front of him.

"This morning the Lady Indil left her room, early this morning. The moon was still high in the sky and there was no sign of dawn for another couple of hours. I followed her to the courtyard where she met Lord Boromir who was also walking in the fresh air. Lady Indil inquired after Lord Boromir who explained that he had had trouble sleeping and such. They then turned to the gardens where they sat for a while discussing the Steward sons' dream and worries about the upcoming venture. Shortly afterward both walked back to their respective rooms. I believed her to have retired for the night. . ."

"She had not however. . ." concluded Legolas.

Nodding quickly Daeron continued with his narrative.

"Surprised that she had re-emerged I was, perhaps, less prepared than I should have been. I followed her in any case to the entrance to Rivendell and beyond. Lady Indil crossed the bridge and strolled through the wood. She did stop once to study some crocuses but moved on then to a clearing further down the river, beyond the rapids. I did as I have always done. . . left a good distance between us, took to the trees rather than the noisier forest floor. . . When I once again reached her she was placing herself on a ledge beside the Bruinen. I was now at the top of a tree a little way back from the edge of the clearing and so presumed I was safe. . ."

"Daeron I cannot understand your worry. You did everything possible right. . ."

Daeron looked up at Legolas ashamedly.

"It is not finished my Lord. I believed myself to be hidden and therefore safe. The Lady Indil did move forward but only to investigate a growth of moss on the side of the bank. . . or so I thought. . . I could have sworn she looked directly at me in the reflection of the still river water. . ."

Legolas inhaled sharply; this had not been what he had expected from one of Mirkwoods' finest trackers and hunters. Daeron heard the intake of breath and winced, his shame could not be paralleled at this moment.

"Are you sure she saw you?" inquired Legolas after what had seemed to Daeron a very long time.

"I did not check, my Lord. I immediately left my place and moved farther back into the wood. I then came here almost instantly to report to you."

Legolas began pacing steadily muttering to himself and stopping every once in a while to gaze at the stone wall only to resume his pacing. Daeron was trying his very best to maintain a serene exterior but inwardly he was at the end of his tether by the time Prince Legolas addressed him once again.

"Daeron I need you to recall every moment. Did anything seem strange to you about Lady Indils' actions or words?"

Daeron paused before answering.

"No, my Lord. Then again the way she walked. . . it was if she were deliberately slower than normal but I do not think it was by a significant amount."

"Was there anything else? How did she react when she saw you?"

This time it was Daerons' time to stand and pace as he retraced his steps over the past couple of hours.

"I did not notice anything afterward, she did not move or confront me. She simply traced the water with her fingers and relaxed. Truthfully my Lord I did not wait to find out for certain."

Legolas looked at the ellon before him incredulously. Crossing his arms he began to pace the floor earnestly til Daeron thought a long groove would appear in the stone he tread on. Stopping abruptly he turned to the surprised guard.

"You did not wait!!! How can we be certain then if she saw you? Your very flight condemns you! Did anyone follow you?"

Daeron squirmed unconsciously under the stern glare emitting from the Princes' eyes.

"No my Lord."

"Are you sure?" reiterated Legolas, grounding out every syllable through pursed lips.

"Yes my Prince. No one followed me back to Rivendell."

Sighing tiredly Legolas collapsed onto his bed.

"Then perhaps we are safe. If she did not give chase we cannot know for certain if she saw you. . ."

Both ellons knew themselves that this was hopeless grasping of straws but when faced with a certain situation desperate measures almost appear logical.

"It is all we can hope for. . . Daeron return to the others and not a word. Nothing has occurred. . . you understand. . . nothing has changed. Resume your watch this evening, we only have one more day."

Daeron nodded dutifully before bowing and striding out the door.

* * *

To any innocent onlooker the morning meal in the Great Hall of theHouse of Elrond seemed a quiet affair, quiet. . . and perhaps somewhat subdued. Then again anyone closer still would know that this was perfectly acceptable considering what some of the company would be embarking on the very next morn. To some however there existed the subtle thread of tension between several of those seated at the grand table.

Lord Elrond presided over the whole situation contentedly ignoring as best he could the mute glances, secretive observations and whispered conversations taking place. Gandalf however was not so calm as to acquiesce to this mode and was trying to engage the newly formed fellowship in any form of communal conversation possible.

"Well my dear Hobbits we shall come across many a great wonder on our journey. Several of your companions are quite knowledgeable, take the time to appreciate the stories they have. . . ," glancing around the table Gandalf picked the most relaxed of all present to begin with, "Gimli. . .is not the sight of the snow-capped Misty Mountains a marvel to behold?"

Holding up his hand the dwarf belched as silently as possible before answering.

"Aye Gandalf ye be right in sayin' that. . . truly beautiful is rock when viewed in the gleam of the brilliant snows. Now dwarves like myself are built for cold weather but. . ."

The Hobbits glanced surreptitiously at one another as the dwarf, lost in his own world, relayed all to be known about the survival qualities inherent in the dwarven race.

Indil grinned at her associate across the table who looked to be regretting his choice in advocate.

'That shall keep the Hobbits busy I suppose. . .' she thought as they turned to face the dwarf and listen as attentitively as they could with food in front of them, polite to the last.

Raising her eyes she caught the look of suspicion firmly planted, more frequently in recent days, on the Prince of Mirkwoods' face. Anytime she met or looked him in the eye all she read there was distrust. His little guard had probably run straight to his leader to report the incident beside the river. . . predictable. . . but all the more pleasing to see the ellon turn from her gaze so soon when a few days ago he would have waited for her to surrender.

'The complete opposite of Boromir. .' she mused turning her sight now on the oblivious Gondorian, who sat talking peaceably with Aragorn.

The two had become more civil, which was thankful since it reduced the number of divisions within the group by one. While they both disagreed on several points they now set them aside and began conferencing to discuss the first leg of their journey together. It had all started quite easily when Boromir had been giving Merry and Pippin a few pointers on using their knives. Aragorn had strolled by only stopping for a moment to offer some advice and then continued on his way without any further interruption. This of course had developed and now after three days the men could hold a decent and polite conversation as long as they avoided topics that were controversial.

Smiling at Gandalf one last time Indil rose from her seat gracefully and replaced it at the table. Leaving the meal far behind she moved further on through the halls to a place she had not visited for quite some time. . . the forge. The first thing anyone notices about any forge is the heat, searing and breathtaking it shocked Indil for a moment until she moved into it to find an old friend.

"Galion!! Galion!. . ."

Shouting as loudly as possible Indil still did not catch the attention of the sweating ellon pumping the bellows at the very back of the workshop. His dark hair was slicked back from his forehead and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. Dressed in an apron common to all blacksmiths nothing made the master blacksmith stand apart except for his exceptional height, which made the bellows a task of back bending and such. The work was backbreaking and Indil could see that in every movement Galion made. . . the bunching of muscle. . the gritting of teeth. No it was most definitely not an easy job. . .

Moving further into the heat Indil passed racks of fine weaponry, stout shields and decorative utilities. Stopping not a five feet from the blacksmith Indil shouted as loud as she could to be heard above the whooshing of pumped air and roaring fires. Finally the elf glanced up, emerald eyes twinkling, grinned and returned to his work.

'Typical Galion. Always making my life that little bit more difficult. .' huffed Indil, making her sentiments known. . . physically known.

"Oh. . . you still have quite a thump Lady Indil. . ." grumbled Galion, leaving his bellows to the side.

"You know I practice it for just such an occasion. . ." mused Indil aloud.

The blacksmith smiled to himself before motioning that she should follow him to the back of the shop. Several elves moved around she and Galion pumping bellows, beating metal and various other things adding to the cacophony of loud noise beating on Indils' ears . Standing back Galion followed Indil through to the front of the workshop and shut the door firmly behind him immediately quietening the deafening symphony of sound behind.

"I have them right here my Lady. In truth they were not in need of much repair, only a some toughening and such. . ." stated the blacksmith aloud while pulling a tightly bound sack from a shelf.

"I know but when I have the opportunity to use a forge, and one of the finest at that, I cannot help but have them checked." Smiled Indil and the flattered ellon.

Drawing out a shield first she admired the smooth surface that now gleamed in the sparse sunlight of the workshop. Laying it aside she then examined her greaves, newly reinforced and buffed.

"One would think I was going to join the elven armies of Gil-galad!" scoffed Indil, fingering the delicate grooves Galion had placed on the metal.

"Well. . . you cannot expect a blacksmith such as myself not to decorate such metal my Lady. It is like placing a juicy bone in front of a starving dog!"

"I know Galion and thank you. Your craftsmanship is excellent and beautiful. . ." whispered Indil, still entranced by the patterns and motifs on the armour.

Next from the bag came a huge spearhead, sharp and perilous to see. Perilous by nature also it had served Indil well in the previous battles especially its unique talent of being able to slice through a troll without hesitation. The opening in the bottom allowed for easy attachment to a thick staff chosen by the wielder, ornate and deadly it shone brilliantly alongside the shield and greaves.

"What is this Galion? I did not leave anything more for you to do!. . ."

Galion simply grinned and remained silent, fondly watching as Indil peered into the sack. Instead of reaching in she peeled the cloth backward to reveal a shirt of fine chainmail. . . very fine mail . .

"I know you do not like too much armour. . .you prefer leather for what ever reason you might have. . but I could not resist. With the darkness growing ever greater we all need some added protections. It is as light as a feather and will not hinder you in battle. I tested it myself. . ." babbled Galion as the Istar before him explored every aspect of the mail before her.

"Galion how is it so light. . .the only thing. . no. . you should not have!!! I brought that for you!" exclaimed Indil.

"I did not."

"You mean you did not use it?"

"No my Lady. I did not use all the mithril you gave to me all those years ago. I used some. . . it is an experiment myself and Thalion have been working on for a few decades. We only perfected it twenty years ago but it made it possible to make this for you." Smirked Galion, glowing in the knowledge that he knew something the Istar did not.

"What? Is it a new smelting process? A new ore perhaps?" suggested Indil, visibly annoyed at her own ignorance.

"No. . . you will never know. . unless you ask. . ." grinned the blacksmith.

"Wait. . .filings? smelted into the metal?. . . . a new temperature? Varying the bellows? What Galion what?"

"Very well. Myself and Thalion after years of trial and error have finally managed to meld mithril and iron into one entity. Not as good as mithril but not as soft as iron!"

Indil stood astonished at the brilliance of it. The simple brilliance. Galion could not stop smiling and could almost see the cogs turning in the Istars' mind as she worked out the ratios and amounts needed.

"I thought that was impossible." Stated Indil, still stunned at Galions' revelation.

"Ah not impossible but unlikely. I admit we did almost give up for a while but it came to me quite quickly. The smelting process is more complicated. . .you have to file the iron down as fine as possible and then smelt the mithril separately. Then. ."

The explanations continued on for hours but Indil could not but stand in silent rapture at the cleverness of the blacksmith and his brother. His animation at the whole process only made for entertaining listening while also being quite fascinating. Leaving the forge that afternoon she still found herself somewhat confused about the whole process but happy enough with her understanding when the ringing of swords reached her ears.

Boromir stood at one end of the courtyard while Merry and Pippin attacked him on two fronts. The Hobbits were excitedly shouting encouragement at one another while Boromirs' face was the picture of concentration. Indil thought she was imagining it but after some study she could see the tin veil of perspiration over Boromirs' features. Bilbo, Frodo and Sam sat on a bench viewing the whole event with much interest. Indil sat beside Sam who nodded his welcome while comfortably chewing on a apple.

"How long have they been like this?" inquired Indil.

"Oh five minutes or so. Really Merry and Pip are getting quite excited over nothing. . ." muttered Bilbo, dubiously monitoring Boromir for any signs of restraint.

"Uncle you know it has been at least seven minutes and they are doing quite well. Where have you just come from Lady Indil?" smiled Frodo, while patting his Uncles' shoulder indulgently.

"The forge as it just so happens. I think I shall continue on to my rooms, there are still a few things I need to pack and run over before tomorrow." Mused Indil aloud as she rose from her seat and moved off in the direction of her chambers.

Frodo stared after her intensely before tapping Bilbo quite sharply.

"Yes Frodo my lad?" queried Bilbo with one eye on the spectacle before him.

"Where is Lady Indil going? She said she had to pack. Where is she going?"

The slightly frantic note in Frodo's voice made Sam and Bilbo focus their full attention on the Hobbit between them.

"Why Frodo my boy, calm yourself. The Lady Indil is forever on some mission or other. She ups and leaves at any given moment." Soothed Bilbo taking his nephews left hand in his own.

"Quite right Master Bilbo. I heard Strider talking to Lord Elrond. Supposedly the Lady is heading off on some quest. . ." affirmed Sam, nodding in a bobbing motion.

Frodo accepted the answers silently while the other two were distracted by a sudden roar. Boromir pushed all he had at the two Halflings, much to their surprise and detriment. Knocking them over he laughed victoriously as they tried to separate their entangled limbs as quickly as possible.

The whole party laughed at their antics except one who kept looking anxiously in the direction an Istar had taken not a few moments ago.


	17. Chapter 17

**Authors' Note**: Hidy Hi folks! well here is the next chapter in which things begin to move a little faster. I am sorry for anyone who doesn't like a slower paced fiction, not that this is, but I do like to explore writing to try and fill out the story. I thinks it is much better than landing in Lothlorien in a matter of three chapters. I really want the characters to come alive especially Indil who is my own creation. Thus the backstory and time detail of period spent at Rivendell.

Before anyone asks I decided not to try and write about the Fellowships' departure from Rivendell as this chapter was long enough already. I was sorely tempted though to continue on after Indils' departure using either Gandalf, Legolas or Boromir as narrators but decided to leave it. If anyone would like to see a chapter with that include it in a review and I will oblige most happily. No problems!!! LOL

ANYWAY thanks to those who reviewed: Pen~of~Magic and Wishfulwhispers. To hear any feedback is always greatly appreciated and I am glad you liked Galion. I thought that scene would be a nice break from all the tension floating about. Thanks again for your reviews and for reading!!!

* * *

Frodo could not help but wonder at the situation he now found himself in. Namely atop his pristine bed, fully dressed a full hour before dawn, surrounded by bags and implements gathered by Sam for the upcoming journey. How had it all come to this?

Stroking the bedspread beneath his fingers he mentally reviewed the past month and a half that he had supposedly spent in Rivendell, one of the last elven realms in Middle-Earth. It had all gone by so fast, too fast. This could not be happening, could not be real. Staring at his surroundings somewhat numbly the Hobbit saw everything and yet saw nothing.

His eyes picked out certain aspects of his chambers he had not noticed before or ones that his eyes had become so used to that they did not register them; the vibrant coloured cloths, the carefully crafted furniture. The hazy beams of light that were beginning to shine through the gauze material that covered his window illuminated the room in an eerie glow. It was as if time itself had ceased and he was frozen, frozen by doubt and fear. How he wished time would stand still until he was prepared.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the voice of reason call to him, it told him that he would never be ready and that his time was up. How could he have agreed to this? How had it come to this in the first place? By any standards he should be at home sleeping soundly in his own bed, Bilbo should be right across the hall snoring, the warmth of the Hobbit hole cocooning him in security. Still and all when he opened his eyes there was a definite lack of warmth that memories of the Shire provided. He was alone, there was no quilt his mother had sewn, there was no round window permitting the warm glow of sunlight, there was no snoring. Instead there was eternity, a room that had existed for centuries, furniture that was carved by beings that had infinite wisdom beyond his own measure despite their being carpenters.

The light seemed weary, tired of existence in the harsh morning air. As if it had been too long abiding in this place where time seemed to be of no great import, where time had little influence. Everything that surrounded him was strange, unnatural and he was the only thing within it that seemed to breathe life and vitality the rest was odd. He did not fit; a disturbance that would soon be forgotten even before the time when the elves would forsake this land and Rivendell and all within it faded. He tried to imagine what this room might have seen, who it might have housed but his mind would not co-operate with him this morning. It seemed it too had become caught up in the melancholy atmosphere that pervaded every corner.

"The sooner we leave here the better. I have been to long in the company of elves. . . slowed to their pace. I need to go and be done with it."

Even as he said the words aloud he felt his body rebel at the thought. His speech slurred at the possibility of disturbance while the indistinct words spread out to attempt to fill the void encompassing him. It failed miserably. . . words fading into nothingness, into noiselessness. Useless and meaningless with no one to hear them, how fragile were words. How fragile was existence?

Yesterday felt as if it were so long ago. . . his thoughts mixed with those of the last month confusing meetings and images with more recent additions. His sense of order was twisted. . . the small became of the utmost import, the wise became ineffectual and immortality seemed futile with nothing to live for if everything were to go wrong. Yesterday he had felt so much better, yesterday it had made sense, she had made him see sense in a hopeless situation.

'There is no right and wrong. . . only your best. Do not dwell on it so much Frodo. . . .it is all for a reason.'

She had spoken of reason; what reason was there in a hobbit taking the doom of mankind and all the peoples of Middle-Earth to the fiery pit from whence it had been forged. What sense was there in a band of nine infiltrating the darkest of lands that had not seen the beauty of nature for centuries? What sense was there in a lone Istar travelling the breadth of the land searching for a well known wanderer? What reason. . . . . what reason. . . what reason. Again her words came to him piercing through the mist and gloom akin to a beam of light in a dark corner.

'What reason is there to life if only to live as best we can. Frodo even the most insignificant detail can change the course of history and the path of the future.'

So she would travel forever to locate him; one named fool by his fellows, his peers. Was it really that important, was he not more important, did she not care one whit about what might happen to him? Of course not why would she? A hobbit, who would care for a hobbit. . . . STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Stop it!

You are not here, you are not me, I am here, leave me in peace. He had felt it growing, ever since the council and over the past week especially. The nagging corner of doubt in his mind, the corner which did not seem his own. The corner of his mind that was hidden even from him. The warped voice that spoke to him, a voice he did not recognise. A sound that was as unnatural to the ear as it was to his mind. He could hear his own voice muffled and weak when compared to the dark surety suffused that which he could not place.

Standing up he pushed himself heavily from the bed and moved to draw back the curtains. Shuffling onto the plain balcony at his window the hobbit leaned his head against the cold smooth stone of the archway. Its solidity comforted him, the rough texture felt secure and unyielding beneath his soft flesh but was all the more reassuring for it. As the sun crept over the tree tops Frodo could make out the small glistening minerals in the stonework closest to his eye. How they shone in the light, so bright, faint but bright. The courtyard itself seemed to bask in the light of the early morn bringing a new quality to the air and room behind him. Now it seemed much more hopeful, encouraging in the daylight. Whatever spell had been cast was banished yet again. Smiling Frodo turned to his now welcoming room devoid of any corner of despair, surveying all that had to be done with a much more optimistic attitude.

Once again light had conquered darkness, not only in the atmosphere but also in the mind of one seemingly insignificant being who again tonight and every night forthwith would be caught up in the battle for his faith.

* * *

Indil paced restlessly. She had been up since dawn thinking over her plans, running through her chosen path, visualising every step. It was not this though that kept her from her bed, no it was a comfort. Yesterday evening had revealed many surprises that she had not considered possible, some more remarkable than others.

Sighing loudly the Istar forced herself to stop and sit. Trying to relax she laid her head back, resting it on the hard wooden surface supporting her. As the night waned and the dawn light crept steadily onward brightening every feature it touched she considered the events of the previous evening. The warming light helped her to relax in the chair, arms hanging heavily on the rests, feet planted firmly to the ground. Without stirring the Istar, beginning at her head, moved down through her body relaxing each muscle as she went allowing her body to rest limp, folding itself around the contours of her chair. Completely at rest she allowed her mind to recall the meeting she had had with Frodo in the corridor outside her room.

He had been agitated, very unsettled dressed in his finest robes for the feast that was about to be held in the Fellowships' honour. Casting her mind back to that very moment she examined with her minds' eye the young hobbit working hard to maintain a façade of calm while the tell tale signs of anxiousness pervaded not only his movements but also his speech. The twisting of his cuff in his hand, the constant movement of his feet, his darting eyes that roamed everywhere, rarely settling on her face or vicinity. All had seemed fairly normal earlier that afternoon when she had sat beside him briefly, worried yes but this anxiousness had not been present.

Walking with him to the Great Hall was largely a quiet affair until, she supposed, he had realised how close they were coming to their destination. Then the questions had come thick and fast; Where was she going? What was she going for? Would she be going anywhere near Mordor? She had had to grasp the young Hobbits' arm to gain his attention before he rattled off numerous other inquiries into the barren distance.

'_Frodo why is my going anywhere worrying you?' whispered Indil gently, trying to soothe the overwrought Halfling._

_She waited patiently as he stared at the paved floor. Raising his head slowly he gazed over her shoulder, not looking at anything in particular except for an ornate door as if it held the answers he so desired._

_'Is your leaving. . . has your going anything to do with this quest? Anything to do with me specifically?'_

_Indil did not reply for a while, in part because she wanted to phrase her answer correctly but also because she was somewhat taken aback at the question._

_'I do not mean to pry or to question you or anything of the sort,' cried Frodo fretfully, ' but I cannot help but think that this is another person going on a foolhardy mission because of me and there are too many of those already. Far too many.'_

_Indil glanced about her quickly before pulling the nervous hobbit to nearby stairway. Kneeling before him she stared determinedly at his face until he met her gaze. Holding his hands in her own she began, hoping that she would make some impact._

_'Frodo. You are not the sole reason for my leaving Rivendell. You are not the cause of my departure nor the aim of my journey.'_

_Squeezing his hands momentarily she waited for a while to allow her words to sink in._

_'I am leaving because I am afraid for the safety of a friend. Whom I trust and love dearly. And. . . and I cannot rest peacefully. . . here or anywhere else unless I find him. For good or for bad I cannot and will not ignore the fact that he is missing.'_

_Both parties allowed the silence to fill the wordless void between them as they both wondered at the others thinking._

_'In any case,' pointed Indil decisively, 'it was never my intention to fade into the background while you went out and had all the fun!'_

_Frodo allowed a small smile at that, he suddenly found himself lighter than he had before relieved of a burden that had been weighing on his mind.._

_'Frodo you cannot keep everyone from danger nor can you claim responsibility when they decide to take part in events you have no control over.'_

_Indil smiled sympathetically at the hobbit before her. The position he found himself in was one she herself had experienced before and had subsequently learned from. That is the world pushes on with or without us and we can only steer our own course to the best of our ability and hope that those we love will find their own way._

_In any case Frodo did seem a little more at ease compared to the state he had been in earlier._

_'I know, I just wish that Sam, Merry and Pip were not involved. It is not that I am not thankful,' stated Frodo earnestly, ' but I would have preferred had it not been on my account that they ended up here amongst all of this.'_

_Taking Frodo's arm gently Indil led him to th__e stair to sit. Holding his clenched hands in her own she waited until his face was fully turned towards her own before she began._

_'We cannot undo what has been done nor right what we feel has been done wrongly but maybe we can tip the balance in our favour. . .' Indil paused before capturing the Halfling's stare again._

_'Friends are priceless gifts that we have no right to. A good friend and loyal companion cannot be underestimated in any sense, a kind word, a comforting hand, an unprejudiced ear . . . do not underestimate the true value of these simple offerings._

_Frodo if it were not for friends I would still be locked in the deepest dungeons of Barad-dur, facing the might of the nine by myself. . . over the years friends have proven time and time again that it is not wise, nay it is foolish, to venture into any quest without support. _

_So this I say to you Frodo of the Shire do not regret the presence of your friends but revel in it. Enjoy and take comfort from it. In their own way they have a role to play in this whole event.'_

_Indil rose quietly from their seat with __a more relaxed Frodo in tow. The companions moved to the entrance of the Great Hall slowly as if savouring the moment in which they themselves had made a true friend._

_Standing before the large oak doors Indil gathered herself for the parade that was to come. Stopping short she suddenly grasped Frodos' arm tightly in her own causing him to frown in confusion._

_'Promise me Frodo, swear to me that you will never venture without at least one of the Fellowship by your side. . . swear it.'_

_Frodo peered at the Istar curiously taking in the resolute glint in her eye__ and firm set to her jaw. Finally he nodded silently, acquiescing to her demand. Satisfied Indil straightened and entered the Great Hall already packed with bodies and the sound of merriment filling the night air._

Looking back now she could well understand why the Hobbit was so anxious. He was about to go forth into a world that, except from what he had learned from books, was unknown and mysterious. A land that would give no quarter to those who were innocent in the ways of the wider world at large, especially given recent developments. Today his life and the lives of all the hobbits would be irrevocably changed, perhaps not for the better. What had she once heard? . . . something along the lines of once experienced it is very hard to return to that state that is blissful ignorance.

For a moment as thoughts of Frodo drifted through her mind Indil almost forgot the other exchange which she had had a part in. Grimacing slightly at the memory she rose to her feet and tugged viciously at the straps that held her travel bedding in place. Of all the arrogant, self-absorbed, egotistical . . . and he was meant to have received training in dealing fairly and justly with people! Laughing to herself she unconsciously began to pack her clothes as neatly as possible into the saddlebags splayed across her bed.

Gandalf had always had trouble with the father so the son should not be expected to be much different. Hot-tempered, quick to jump to conclusions. . . traits that seemed to have filtered down through the Mirkwood royal line. His mother had been the most patient elleth Indil had ever encountered, still she had been married to Thranduil so it was no wonder. Legolas did have some of his mothers' blood coursing through his veins. Unfortunately he had lost her influence while still a youngling.

Fastening the pack securely Indil called up the memory of that meeting. . . his shock and embarrassment followed quickly by a hot outburst. Amazing how he had managed to flit from one emotion to the other as quickly as he had. Indil had never seen such a huge array of emotion to cross the face of one of the first born in such a short space of time in all her years.

_Following Frodo to the group Indil ignored the stares of the gathered elves that analysed their every movement. The only ones who seemed oblivious to their entrance or who were making an attempt to were the Fellowship members themselves and Lord Elrond._

_'Perhaps our conversation was not as private as I thought. .' mused Indil silently as she seated herself beside Gandalf. To her other side sat __a regally dressed Aragorn who was in deep conversation with Legolas, the hobbits chatted opposite with Gimli who was keeping Boromir company also._

_Nodding at Boromir slightly Indil turned to engage Gandalf in conversation keen to question him about the Fellowships' departure . Before she could do so however a voice interrupted her attempt at a sentence._

_'Did you enjoy your walk this morn my lady?'_

_Smiling at a bemused Gandalf Indil twisted her body so that the elven prince was visible._

_'I did indeed, my lord. Thank you for your inquiry. Do you often make a habit of chronicling the movements of new acquaintances?'_

_Legolas smiled in a courteous manner but Indil could see the unwavering confidence that shone in his eyes._

_'No, my lady. Only in extreme circumstances and with those acquaintances I like to keep track of.'_

_'I thank you for your concern but I have no need of a movement record.' Smiled Indil as graciously as she could manage while being watched by Gandalf._

_'Oh it was not out of concern my lady, simply interest.' Stated Legolas frostily._

_Suddenly Indil felt the eyes of the whole group descend upon herself and the ellon facing her. Aragorn for his part was looking slightly alarmed at the turn which the conversation had taken and was trying to remain as visibly calm as possible but the tension that coursed through his upper body, as if it were tensed to spring, was impossible to hide. Gandalfs' hand now rested on Indils' forearm closest to him and was applying as much pressure as was possible without drawing attention which was in complete contrast to Boromirs' reaction. He was now openly glaring at Legolas, hand clenched in a fist, while Gimli was completely confused as to why the circle now seemed frozen. Clenching her jaw Indil struggled to maintain a semblance of calm in front of the Fellowship._

_'Ah I see you take after your father in that respect. Always taking interest in those that surround you.'_

_Smirking inwardly Indil watched as the smug look on Legolas' face was replaced by sheer anger at her reference._

_'Oh and you have his temper also, what a combination.'_

_Legolas was half-way standing before Aragorn managed to restrain his arm and push him back into his chair._

_'Legolas remember where you are!' growled the ranger, eyeing Indil also._

_Shaking off the rangers' hold Legolas stiffly fixed his robes before speaking._

_'I am afraid that a hot temper is a trait that myself and my father both share as is a natural suspicion of those newly introduced but these traits have often seen us through the most worrisome of times. Revealed to us secrets that would destroy, unveiled enemies hidden in the shadows. . . they are of use. I am forgetting my manners however I apologise my lady if I have caused you any inconvenience.'_

_As if to qualify his apology Legolas bowed laboriously in his seat._

_'No insult was taken my lord but I once again assure you I do not need a record of my movements nor do I need anyone questioning my motives for taking an early morning stroll simply because I cannot sleep._

_Suffice it to say I would be greatly indebted to you if you would remove your sentinel from his post and may I advise that if I find that he is still following me I shall not be so lenient in my dealings.'_

_More than one gasp was audible at Indil's announcement, especially since she had raised her voice so that anyone in the vicinity of the circle would hear her statement, including Lord Elrond._

_Quite surprisingly Gandalfs' restraining arm was now gripping the arm of his own chair while the Istar himself glowered at the elven prince. Under the stern gaze of both Gandalf and Lord Elrond Legolas seemed to wilt a little, sitting back in his chair._

_'If you do not mind Olorin I think I shall retire since I will be leaving early on the morrow.' Whispered Indil._

_'Of course, do not allow yourself to surrender to sleep fully. I would like to talk to you after I have spoken with Lord Elrond.'_

_His answer was faint but she knew this was not due to any breathlessness. If it were not for his complete attention on the Mirkwood Prince she might not have believed he was speaking to her._

_Rising slowly Indil bid the group goodnight before striding through the crowds of whispering elves._

Smiling slightly at the image of a motionless Legolas surrounded by curious stares Indil hefted her saddle bags to the chair beside the door. Pulling out her sword and whet stone she methodically ran it down the length of the blade. The repetitive rhythmic sound of stone against metal lulled her into a meditative state.

It had not been her initial intention to reveal her discovery to the entire room but in her irate state she had not thought to lower her voice. Undeniably some of her finer moments occurred when she was incensed at one thing or another.

Gandalf had joined her in her chambers a short while afterward and quizzed her quite thoroughly concerning the whole incident. After she had explained everything he had been furious and was ready to march off to interrogate Legolas with the aide of Lord Elrond. Not so furious however to forget to admonish her actions. . .

_'Indil while I understand your anger you might have come to me first about this affair or to Lord Elrond who presides over this house.'_

_Indil sighed realising that she was not completely without fault for the exhibition that had taken place._

_'I intended to talk to you, if you remember I was about to speak to you before Legolas interrupted. . .,' a glare from Gandalf spurred her on, ' and I probably should not have disparaged his father. I concede that was wrongly done and childish of me but he pushed me as far as I was willing to go without lashing out.'_

_Not a breath after she had finished Gandalf burst out laughing._

_'Do I not know my dear!! Was it not I who had your arm in my grasp. Valar forbid that it should move to aide you alongside a few choice words! Still you must remember that no matter how badly Thranduil has viewed either you or I we cannot judge his son for his actions. I know Legolas to be hot-tempered and suspicious but he has the understanding of his mother.'_

_Nodding slightly Indil lay back on her bed as Gandalf closed the door firmly behind him._

She had not slept after he had left, watching the inky blackness lighten to a grey hue and then to a orange glow. Running through the conversation a thousand times in her mind examining each word, pin pointing the main flash points had made for serious contemplation. It had revealed nothing more of Legolas' intentions but had served as a means of distraction.

Sheathing her sword she strapped it across her back winching it as tight as possible. Sliding her full quiver of arrows beside it she placed her bow on one shoulder and hefted her saddlebag onto her remaining free one. Glancing about the room Indil searched for anything that might have come loose, assured that everything she needed was put away she stepped to the door and pulled it ajar. Turning back one final time her lips quirked upwards in a small gesture of remembrance before returning to their neutral position as she stepped out into the corridor and ended her sojourn at Rivendell.

* * *

Rivendell welcomed the fresh morning light like a thirsty man water. The whole structure seemed to strain to catch the smallest beam no matter how inconsequential. Footsteps echoing through the deserted hallways announced the imminent arrival of Indil to the central courtyard where two others and a horse waited patiently for her to reach them.

Lord Elrond stood regally beside the stallion whispering elven words of encouragement and praise, dressed in formal robes of burgundy and russet he appeared every inch the elven lord. Beside him smiling stood Gandalf leaning on his staff, eyes twinkling beneath his thick brows. He was once again clothed in the travelling robes he so preferred in preparation for his own departure in a mere couple of hours.

Turning his attention from the stallion Elrond gazed at Indil as she made her way down the front steps to them. Though her gait was quite leisurely he smirked at the keen expression hidden amongst her features.

'I see you have finally decided to join us.'

'Yes, yes I apologise Olorin. I was just ensuring that my chambers were completely empty. I believe I have everything.'

Indil made a show of patting her numerous weapons and pockets before grinning at the elf and Istar wryly.

'Ah you do not have everything, Lady Indil. Allow me to present to you some gifts on behalf of my household in the hope of meeting you once again when all has come to pass.' Murmured Elrond softly as two ellith stepped forward from the shadows.

One carried a pair of beautiful black leather gloves and a small pouch. On the gloves a silver motif symbolising Rivendell household was stitched while the small pouch contained a store of Athelas carefully packed in. Admiring the workmanship of the gloves Indil slipped them on immediately and reverently placed the pouch into a cleverly concealed inner fold within her cloak. Before she could thank Elrond the second maid stepped forward this time with a delicate silver chain upon which hung a crescent moon shape with leaves and stars entwined into its shape. Bowing her head slightly Indil allowed the elleth to place the jewel around her neck. Feeling it gingerly she bowed fully to Lord Elrond.

'My Lord, I thank you for your hospitality and friendship. Not only for this recent period but for all those times that I stayed here under your protection. I will always be indebted to you and honoured to have shared your home.'

'Indil do not speak as if we are never to meet again. I shall look forward to that hopefully happier time. We have never been allowed by your own self to bestow gifts upon you so it is with great pleasure that I present these items to you.' Replied Elrond warmly before stepping forward to formally bid farewell.

Released from his grasp Indil smiled once more before turning to Gandalf who had been quite silently watching proceedings. Moving to him Indil clasped his forearm.

'My friend what can I say. . .,' whispered Indil gently, searching Gandalfs' eyes with her own, '. . I suppose all that is left to say is try to keep your patience with the younger hobbits and I will see you soon.'

'My dear I can only hope that our paths cross again in the near future for I shall always and ever be in need of your counsel and wisdom.'

Drawing her close Gandalf embraced Indil tightly before moving back to allow access to Tintreach who was snorting impatiently. Automatically Indil moved forward and placed her palm underneath his forelock, calmed Tintreach stood still as his mistress attached the full saddlebags securely to his back. Hoisting herself into the saddle Indil turned Tintreach so that she faced her two well wishers.

'Look for me in Lothlorien friend, for if ever I am finished this search I shall make for the Golden wood before journeying on to Minas Tirith. If the hour is late I shall press on to the white city and meet you there with whatever tidings I can garner concerning Radagast.'

'By what roads will you come?' questioned Gandalf.

'If I make for the Gap of Rohan perhaps I shall draw unwanted attention from your party. It is the most feasible and I am less likely to be caught since I am but one rider.' Replied Indil convincingly.

Gandalf looked concerned but shook his head realising it was of no use to try and argue with Indil when she had made a decision.

'Very well. Do not trust to slip past Saruman Indil. Our fellow Istar is wise in all manner of deceit and concealment.'

Indil smiled at his concern but inclined her head accepting the wisdom behind his words. Taking a final glance at Rivendell in the early light Indil turned Tintreach sharply and dug her heels into his sides. Already eager to be gone the stallion took little encouragement and darted from the courtyard leaving Indils' farewell ringing in Gandalf and Elronds' ears.


End file.
